Memorymakers (15 page)

“I’m gonna call the cops,” Mrs. Belfer said, and she punched one of the blue programmed buttons on the telephone.

Two policewomen escorted Victoria from the house. She went without protest to their blue and white patrol van while Emily and Mrs. Belfer watched.

“Acts like she’s on something,” one policewoman said as they eased Victoria onto a padded platform at the side of the van. “Custom drugs, maybe. The expensive stuff.”

“None o’ that!” Mrs. Belfer exclaimed. “She’s just nuts! And I got a lot more to tell you about her!” And Mrs. Belfer winked at Emily.

Emily watched the platform slide into the back of the van, and she didn’t feel the least bit smug or happy about Victoria’s arrest. It would hurt Emily’s father when he found out, and the girl wasn’t sure what to tell him. What did Mrs. Belfer mean about more to tell?

Just before the van’s side door slid shut, Emily saw a stream of tiny red lights fly out, and she was able to count them—seven—before they ascended out of sight. One—the first ember to appear—had been brighter than the others.

“Did you see that?” Emily asked, glancing sidelong at Mrs. Belfer.

But the housekeeper seemed preoccupied with rubbing the wounds on her neck, and Emily didn’t ask again.

Chapter 20

The end circles the beginning, and the sleeping Lordmother sleeps no more.

—From a popular song

Guilt gnawed at Emily as she lay on her bed, staring at the circle of light made by her lamp on the ceiling. She’d spoken with her father too briefly that evening on the telephone. She’d told him she loved him, and he’d said the same of her and Thomas. He said he’d have to see to Victoria’s situation before coming home.

“We’ll wait up for you, Daddy,” Emily had promised.

And she wondered what details she should give him. The sight of Victoria dull-eyed and unmoving had been shocking. Those funny specks of light that preceded Victoria’s cessation of violence, had Emily brought those forth unknowingly? The thought that she might have done this muddled her sense of relief, sickened her.

She was free—rid of Squick, rid of Victoria and all the cruelty those people represented. Or was she? Emily felt like an instrument of destruction without controls—someone, or worse still, some thing—that couldn’t be trusted around ordinary people, Gween or Ch’Var. The thought startled her. Who were the perpetrators of this or was it chance, a curious twisting of events? Did Squick or Jabu know the answers?

Thomas came into the bedroom. They sat cross-legged on the bed, talking, and Thomas smelled of soap he hadn’t removed entirety from his hair, a sweet, clean odor that made life seem more familiar to Emily.

They decided the real story of their disappearance would sound too bizarre, that it should be adjusted, made palatable for adult ears. The best action seemed to be the worst. They’d have to tell a lie. One that would sound logical without getting them into too much trouble. Between them they decided what to say, and when the story was nearly perfect, Emily heard her father downstairs, talking in loud, anxious tones with Mrs. Belfer.

Thomas jumped to his feet, but Emily asked him to wait because of the yelling that had started downstairs.

The children listened.

Dr. Harvey was angry over Mrs. Belfer’s failures, and he talked about a serious medical situation, mental damage to Victoria. Mrs. Belfer was overwhelming him with information he didn’t seem prepared to hear, about a kid who’d died at one of Victoria’s college parties, about a cover-up and videotape evidence, about a pact Mrs. Belfer and Victoria had entered into, a pact that deceived Dr. Harvey and the children. Mrs. Belfer was sobbing, she was so remorseful, and Emily felt sorry for her despite the revelations.

Presently Dr. Harvey stood in the doorway of the bedroom, curly hair puffed out at the sides, his eyes dark with emotion. The children embraced him, one on each side.

They sat atop the bed, the three of them, and Emily’s father placed an arm around her shoulders. “Did you run away, Em?” he asked.

“I heard the ridiculous things she said to you on the telephone after we got home, that she could see lies all over my face. Well, I’m not a liar. I’m not the crazy one!” Emily took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.” She didn’t say anything about Victoria’s attempt outer.

“We didn’t run away,” Thomas said. “We went to visit someone.”

“I want the truth,” Dr. Harvey said. “From the beginning.”

And Thomas told the story as they’d composed it, that they’d left the house early in the morning—before Mrs. Belfer was up. That they had decided to hike to their grandparents’ but had become lost and ended up in a park the first night.

Dr. Harvey placed a hand on his forehead and robbed vigorously. “It’s almost eighty klicks to your grandparents’ house. You both know how long it takes to drive that distance. How could you hope to walk it?”

“We weren’t thinking straight,” Emily said with a shrug. She wondered if he could feel the Great Lie, from his arm on her quivering shoulders. At least it was a white lie, one that didn’t hurt anyone.

“We didn’t have enough money to buy bus tickets for both of us the whole distance,” Thomas said, improvising well. “After getting lost and sleeping in the park we wandered around the next day, and pretty soon we decided it would be best to come on home, but it was too late for that, so we slept in a highway rest stop the second night, under an overhang by a big map.”

“We forgot when you’d be back from your trip,” Emily said, “and we didn’t think Mrs. Belfer would notice.”

“I can’t leave you with her anymore,” Dr. Harvey said. “Especially now, with what she’s said and what’s happened to Victoria. I can’t believe Victoria tried to kill her. But Mrs. Belfer s neck is red. What a sordid business.”

Again Emily resisted mentioning the attack on her, and in an apparent mind-joining, Thomas said nothing of if either.

“I have this Mexico project I have to go to,” Dr. Harvey said, “hundreds of peasants needing surgery. What a rotten time for this mess to hit.”

“We’re sorry, Daddy,” Emily said.

“I know you are,” he said. “I shouldn’t have stayed with Victoria so long, don’t know what madness came over me to make me do that. Love, I thought, but now I know better. I had called my lawyer and told him to file tor divorce just before she went crazy. I guess I’ll proceed with that. It’s for the best. I thought I’d lost both of you. I had this terrible fear you were dead, lying out in the cold with no one caring. The police didn’t seem to have any leads.”

“We hiked a few kilometers after sleeping at the rest stop,” Thomas said, “then caught a bus into town, and we barely had enough money for a cab to bring us home the rest of the way.”

“And you didn’t even leave a note for Mrs. Belfer? To let her know where you were headed?”

“No,” Thomas said.

“It doesn’t matter now. You’re back, and that’s the important thing.” He held the children’s hands in his own, and his touch was warm to Emily, a reassuring strength.

She clung to her father’s hand. If only the truth about where they had been didn’t defy reality. If only she understood what the truth represented.

He spoke of Mexico, that it would require a year’s leave of absence, that the project involved building a hospital as well as his medical assistance and teaching program. And he mentioned the need for a nanny to take care of the children.

“Can we go live with Nonna and Panona?” Emily asked.

Dr. Harvey thought for a while, while Emily gazed alternately at him and at the shadow of his head on the wall, from the light of the lamp. “They’re too old,” he said, “can’t keep up with you kids.”

“You’d be surprised,” Thomas said. “Can we please?”

“We know some kids at the school there,” Emily said, “neighbors we’ve played with. It’s nice there.”

“I’ll think about it,” Dr. Harvey said. “And even if I agree to ask them, it’s not a sure thing. Nonna and-”

“Oh, they’ll say yes!” Emily said. “I know they will.”

The next morning, Nonna and Panona drove to the house, and a tearful reunion was had, full of hugs and good cheer. The elderly couple agreed to take the children.

A doctor called from the hospital that morning and reported to Emily’s father that Victoria was almost coherent, and in all likelihood she would recover fully. Over breakfast the Harveys discussed the medical and criminal travails facing Victoria, and Dr. Harvey had second thoughts about the timing of his divorce, not wishing to aggravate his wife’s condition.

“I still have feelings for her,” he admitted.

He decided to delay the proceedings until Victoria regained her strength, until she could cope with the leavings of her life. But he would go through with it eventually, he promised. And he spoke of an excellent alcohol-rehabilitation facility he would encourage Mrs. Belfer to use, at his expense.

From the kitchen table, Emily saw the light on in the back porch room, and occasionally Mrs. Belfer walked by the window facing the porch. She was up quite early for her, in a bright green “Sunday dress” that Emily had not seen in a long time.

My life is falling into place,
Emily thought.
And so is hers. She’ll be fine.

Emily and Thomas ate the equivalent of five breakfasts between them, from a count Panona made of the items consumed, and all had a good laugh over this. Emily overflowed with happiness. It was wonderful to be with her family again. But a small lingering doubt hung over her pleasure, like a rain cloud about to release its bombs of water. No matter how she tried to shake herself loose from the cloud, it hung there nevertheless—waiting to inundate her.

The children moved to their grandparents’ house that afternoon.

In the basement bedroom the children shared there, after they had gone to bed and the house was stilled by the softness of night, Emily talked with Thomas about their decision. They had separate beds, and light came from a night-light stuck in the wall outlet between their beds. It was a bright plastic kitten face illuminating the darkness, and Emily thought of the plastic kitten broken from the door handle of the room in Squick’s building. She’d lost the kitten somewhere in the excitement, but assured herself that it would be all right. It was the only thing she missed from that awful place.

“I hope Daddy isn’t unhappy with us,” she said. “We didn’t even ask to go to Mexico with him.”

“I don’t think he wanted us to. There’s lots of sickness in the jungle, and he doesn’t want us to get any of it. Probably danger where he’s going, too. This way he’ll have less worries.”

“I suppose you’re right. Thomas, promise you’ll always stay with me no matter what.”

“That’s a screwball thing to say. Of course I will. You’re my sister.”

“I mean, no matter what, no matter how crazy I might get. The stuff in my head is still bothering me, still stirring around, and I don’t know how to deal with it, I don’t know what it’s doing to me.”

“You’re just trying to scare me.”

“No, I’m not. I’m telling you everything I can, because you’re the only person in the whole wide world who should know this stuff. We can’t even tell Nonna and Panona about it.”

“I think we could. They’re not like other adults.”

“Maybe, but you and I have a bond, like nothing we’ve ever imagined. I can’t put it into words.” Her voice lowered, and she said, “They’re watching us. I’m sure of it. Whoever they are, they’re here.”

She saw her brother looking at her from just outside his covers, his eyes open wide. “They?”

Something trembled on the edge of Emily’s consciousness, a faint whisper of what was yet to come. “Ch’Vars and Gweens are fighting for control inside me,” she said. “And the Ch’Vars are winning. They’re killing parts of me.”

A shudder ran along the length of her spine.

Chapter 21

In darkness there is always light, for the one feeds upon the other.

—From the ancient Ch’Var “Riddle Song”

Emily had been counting showers since moving in with her grandparents, and this was her third. She nudged a brass lever to shut off the water, grabbed a towel and stepped gingerly onto the bath mat.

She was on the main floor, with the small frosted bathroom window swung open, revealing the bright, variant greens of trees, and filtered morning sun. She felt she had returned to life, a glorious feeling.

As she dried herself she caught a glimpse of something in the mirror beneath a frosty layer of condensation—little red sparks of light. A trick of sunlight?

But the mirror was on the same wall with the window. Could it be light bouncing off the glass of the shower door?

The sparks became clearer, sharper, and like fish swimming to the surface they seemed to be drawing nearer. Fascinated, Emily stopped drying herself and watched. They were hypnotic, dancing lights, one brighter than the others, like the lights she had seen around Victoria, the lights that sped from the police van after the arrest.

Abruptly the lights emerged from the mirror surface into the room—separate little glowdots with one still larger. A sensation of numbness crept over Emily’s body.

She grew cold, shivered, and wrapped herself in the towel, then edged back against the shower door. The lights were between her and the door, forming a barrier to escape. She considered dodging under them and lunging for the door handle, but hesitated.

Emily feared the lights.

The brightest became larger, more brilliant, and a bearded face appeared within it, filtered by a mist. She recognized Director Jabu.

“We have much to discuss,” Jabu said. Six small fed lights danced at the sides of his face.

“Here?” Emily asked. “Now? I’m wrapped in a towel.” She pulled the towel closer.

“You are obligated to consider matters more important than personal comfort or modesty. You are an alpha-mother, the mitochondrial progenitor of a new human race. I sense that you are not aware of everything, and there is much you need to know. Not only for the sake of your own race, but for—”

“You’re in my bathroom. Get out!”

“Respectfully, I decline. For your own good, for the good of your people, for the good of my people.”

“Did you see me naked?”

“No.”

“But your light . . . it was . . .”

Jabu smiled gently. “Please don’t worry. I was in transit, and in that mode saw nothing but the filament of fire I travel on.”

“What is all this gibberish? And where is your body?”

“Forget such concerns. Please. Let me talk.”

Emily, noting a deferential tone, wrapped the towel tighter around herself, securing it with a tuck. She stared at Jabu. His face was flat, of two dimensions only, but the eyes seemed different, in a realm of their own. They were dark and moist, with slight, even gaps all the way around each, as if the eyes were not in contact with the rest of his face.

“I’m conserving energy by not materializing completely in human form,” he said. “These other embers are my associates. I’ve brought them a long way.”

“I’d like to get dressed,” Emily said.

“There’s time for that, but first you owe me a favor. I saved you from your stepmother. You saw the lights around her?”

“Yes! That was you? You went inside her head?”

“And made her, ah, temporarily crazy.” A smile twitched at the edges of his mouth. “Ironic, isn’t it? As I recall from amoeba-cam reports, your stepmother thought you were the loony one.”

“I don’t find that amusing.”

“You wouldn’t. Alpha-mothers are very compassionate, you know.”

“What’s this alpha-mother you keep babbling about?”

“I see fear in your expression, fear of the changes that are occurring within you, fear of what lies ahead. You’re aware of something happening to you internally, but you aren’t quite sure of what it is. I can help you understand.”

Emily took a deep breath, let it out slowly.

“You’re the first of a new race,” Jabu said. “If you live, the race lives. If you perish, the race perishes.”

“How do you know this?”

“I got medical reports on you and your brother. We tracked your family DNA.”

He explained to the astounded girl that she and Thomas were fraternal twins, that the boy had been born years after her of a delayed egg, and that this only happened in the rare historical instances of alpha-mothers and their brothers. Jabu told her of Mother Ch’Var, of Ch’Vars and Gweens, of Lordmother’s Way, and of Mother Ch’Var’s delayed twin, Brother Epan. And Jabu spoke of the Nebulons his race could not live without.

Emily forgot her concerns about modesty, and to her the words of this strange, bearded head rolled across flat lips, from a realm that wasn’t quite her own. But his words rang true and vibrant, as if she had known these things all along, as if they had been unexamined objects from a shelf of her mind.

“Brother Thomas,” Emily said softly. “Sounds kinda religious. Is that what this is all about, a new religion?”

“That’s likely. There are many nuances of religion, as many variations as there are shades of color or tones of sound. No matter what you do, history shows that you will be beheld as a goddess, as we behold our glorious Lordmother.”

“With every new race? What about the Gweens?”

“It is said that they too had a Lordmother and a Way of the Lordmother, but that it fell into disarray with time.”

“What if I don’t want to play the part? What if none of the others in my race know an alpha-mother even exists?”

The flat face showed surprise. “Possible, I suppose. But why would you wish to do that? We adore our Lordmother. She is inspiration for us, salvation when times are difficult.”

“I. . . it’s just that I don’t know if I believe you, or if I can handle all the responsibility if what you say is true. I’m scared.”

“You’ll grow into the job, you’ll learn to accept your future. Give it time. Alpha-mothers have certain . . . powers. You’ve noticed yours?”

“Well, I’ve always had a vivid imagination that enabled me to visualize wild, wonderful things. When that monster Peenchay came after us, I conjured up a protector. My protector swallowed Peenchay and spat him out, what was left of him. It was horrible.”

“I saw the result. I assure you we do not condone Peenchay’s behavior. He was an aberration, an abomination carried over from ancient times, another flaw in our race.”

“Thomas helped me mindshape the protector. He knew I could do it.”

“That is the way of the First Brother. He is growing into his powers, too, and they will complement your own. Often he will become aware of circumstances earlier than you and will guide you.”

Jabu’s eyes seemed full of concern, and he warned, “Be careful with your powers. It is said that every alpha-mother has different abilities, and history is no predictor of these specifics. You have one that worries me more than a little—I feel it now. You possess a certain sensuality that’s difficult for a man to escape. Myself, Squick, probably others.” His eyes closed for a moment. “I fear for you.”

Emily felt her face flush. “Will my race weaken inevitably, as yours has? Will we have an Achilles’ heel such as your Nebulons?”

“So many variables. I cannot say.” The eyes seemed to penetrate the heart of Emily, and she felt uncomfortable, invaded.

She saw a vulnerability in the eyes, beyond their strength, and she understood this. “The Nebulons are not dead,” she said impulsively. The realization made her short of breath, and she added, “I have them, all of them . . . in my body.”

“I wondered about that, and whether you would admit it.”

“There might be a way to release them. I don’t know.”

“Return with me, Lordmother Emily, and I will make certain you are safe. Homaal, where I come from, is a fortress. My race depends upon your safety.”

And if the Nebulons are released?
Emily thought,
What then?
She couldn’t get a full reading on this man, not from the fragments evident to her thus far.

“Tell me the whole truth,” Emily said. She looked at the lights dancing beside Jabu, watched them flit about, never going far away, always staying within a few centimeters of Jabu’s apparition.

“My associates, you mean?”

“Begin with them.”

“I’m sorry. Five are members of my Inventing Corps. They can’t see or hear you, and only bits of my speech are entering their auditory sensors. I brought them along to examine you firsthand, in case you weren’t cooperative. I sense, however, that you understand my concerns, that you are sympathetic.”

Sympathetic? Yes, I suppose I am.

“And your sixth associate?” Emily inquired.

“You don’t miss anything, do you? That’s Squick, but not the old Squick. He’s changed. He’s better now. Uh . . .”

“And?”

“Uh, he has your brother’s embidium. The childhood memories of your brother are stitched seamlessly with Squick’s own, and have soothed Squick’s troubled spirit. Your brother is fine, a phenomenon I don’t understand. The extraction didn’t . . . ”

“Because of the powers of Brother Thomas? It sounds strange, calling him that.”

“You’ll get used to it. His powers . . . yes, perhaps. We meant him no harm. It was part of the system to extract from him, a very old system, Lordmother’s Way. Should I tell you more? I can speak of Squick’s motives, of shittah, of anything you wish.”

“Calm yourself, Jabu. I’ll talk with you, I’ll work with you. But I won’t go with you to Homaal. I’m staying with my grandparents.”

“Not practical, and might not he safe here. We must devote all our energies to the problem at hand, beginning with restoration of the Nebulons.”

“I’m not leaving my grandparents.”

“You must face your responsibilities!”

Emily’s gaze burned through the mists that surrounded Jabu, and she saw him flinch. “I have no responsibility to you,” she said, “not after what your people have done to Gweenchildren. Call upon your own Lordmother. Raise her from the dead and undo the harm your kind have brought to Earth.”

Jabu’s eyes became frantic. “We are not predators! There is much you need to understand, the therapeutic benefits to adults, the necessity of . . . deceit.”

Emily understood some of this, and to her this unfortunate man was beginning to look like a captive in a system he hadn’t initiated.

“I admit to deceit very hesitantly,” Jabu said. “You must realize that Gweens are perhaps even worse. Look at Gween politics, for example.”

“You are in no position to criticize.”

“Technically you may have abused your powers,” Jabu snapped. Then his tone softened. “I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m sure it was unintentional, a defensive reaction. You are young, unfamiliar with your powers. But the results to our race are calamitous!”

“I did only what was necessary to survive. Your Nebulons intruded upon me. They weren’t invited, you had no right!”

“How did you decide what to do? How did you—where in your body are they?” The head twitched with agitation.

Emily could not answer any of this. She had only a vague recollection of the attempted extraction and a lingering sense of tremendous fear and violence over the moment.

“There will be changes,” she said presently, and her voice attained a depth of tone that astonished her. “For days that will seem like years to you, I will consider everything, taking your needs into account. When I have organized my thoughts into neat columns and rows, when I have absorbed all that has happened, there will be new directions. Never again will Gweenchildren be left comatose and helpless. Nor will they be abused in ways I find too loathsome to repeat.”

Jabu appeared to be confused.

“I know you thought you were doing right for your people,” she said. “But there are others to consider. Gweens have rights, too. Maybe my people, my new race, will police or monitor the situation, creating an atmosphere in which all humans can live in peace.”

“But we must make extractions. They’re critical, don’t you understand? Even the comatose part is unavoidable. Other matters I’m sure we can work out.”

“Thomas avoided coma.”

“But only because of who he is.”

“There is a secret there nonetheless, something to be learned from his experience. A way to prevent suffering.”

Jabu told her of the researches of his Inventing Corps, and Emily was heartened by this. But Jabu did not appear heartened. His was a dismal countenance to behold, a picture of dejection.

“What will you name your people?” he asked.

“Maybe I’ll let them name themselves. Or maybe they won’t know they’re different, I’ll see.”

“May I remain near you?” Jabu asked, his tone subdued, “To answer questions, to provide more information? I will tell no lies, will conceal nothing from you. Time is of the essence, and if we can speed the process in any way . . . do you think it would be all right?”

“If you wish. You can find a place safe from detection?”

“Do you have a little hand mirror?”

“Why, yes. In the cabinet under this sink.”

“Mirrors are suitable places of concealment, even cracked ones. We can burrow deep into the light crevices within the glass, can rest there in our ember form. There are many mysteries about mirrors . . . much I can tell you one day . . . much yet for you to learn.”

“And for you,” Emily said.

Jabu looked abashed.

“Though I allow you to remain nearby,” Emily said, “remember my powerful protector. Remember what he did to Peenchay.”

“I won’t oppose you.” The flat face became a glowing red ember, a fat dot of light. It formed a line with the others, and they disappeared neatly into a crack between the doors under the sink.

Emily sighed and began to consider the future of humankind. She saw herself at the nexus of all civilization, of all sentient life, and through Jabu’s eyes she gazed across the ice plain toward the horizon. She felt very old, much older than the birthday she was about to have.