Orleans (27 page)

“It was supposed to drain off floodwaters,” Daniel said.

“Indeed it was. A miracle of modern engineering. But it failed in Katrina, burst like an aneurysm, flooding the surrounding area with raging toxic waters. So we widened this bayou before the Two Sisters struck, hoping to hold off the lake water from the north. As they say, history will teach us nothing. It proved the fatal blow.” He chewed thoughtfully on a piece of apple, his eyes distant, seeing the past. After a moment, he started and came back to himself with a chuckle. He poured some honey onto his plate from a small jar. “But it makes a good home. I keep bees here, too, Daniel. I shall have to show you the apiary. They make germinating the plants so much easier.”

“Bees?” Daniel repeated. “But honeybees are extinct.”

It was one of the reasons for the riots back home and the slow migration of people on the freeways, fleeing the countryside in search of jobs and food. Daniel had assumed the honey on Mr. Go’s plate was synthetic. The man expected him to believe it was real?

Mr. Go gave him an amused smile. “Not here, Daniel, not in the Delta. You see”—he mopped up some of the honey with a piece of apple—“despite our failings, the Delta is the Promised Land. The land of milk and, quite literally, honey.” The golden syrup dripped from the white and red apple slice, forming viscous tears as it fell to the plate and coated Mr. Go’s fingers. Daniel hadn’t had real honey since he was a small boy. His mouth watered and he licked his lips. The suit responded by recycling his saliva away.

“I hate to waste it,” Mr. Go said by way of apology, and tilted his head beneath the fruit, eating it whole, licking his fingers afterward.

“In some ways, by killing New Orleans, it seems we have saved it,” he theorized. “Now, I am no saint, and indeed when I moved to Orleans before the Wall went up, I knew what the government had planned. I simply could not let them seal the Delta off without trying,
trying
to fix what went wrong.” For a moment, a look of pained anger flashed across the weathered old face, and Mr. Go stopped to sip some water before he continued.

“To understand Orleans today, you must understand what happened in the beginning, son. In 2005, 2015, 2018. The chain of events that led to the downfall of the greatest city in the greatest nation on earth. Don’t believe for a minute that the rest of the United States has survived any of this deep tragedy. Oh no, for we are no longer a nation. There is the Delta on the one hand, and the Outer States of America on the other.” He tapped the table with the edge of either hand as he spoke. “As our great president Abraham Lincoln knew, a house divided cannot stand. We are divided, young Daniel, and so your homeland dies, while ours flourishes, and yet we die, too, every day, for want of the things your world could provide. The land of milk and honey, Daniel. What will it take for them to see it?

“We are the offspring of our own making; the way a potato vine can self-propagate into a mirror image of itself, so have we done. And that was New Orleans before the Wall, and that is the Outer States and Orleans now. Our children are thieves and murderers first by necessity, then by a self-determined sense of right. Where is the rule of law? After the first storm, Rita, there was looting, even without making landfall in the city. Then came Katrina, and when New Orleans was still on her knees, her children were killing one another. Killing out of petty dispute and personal gain when they should have been helping one another, lifting one another up, raising their city, their
mother,
out of the muck and the mire and rebuilding her anew.

“Is it any wonder that Orleans is a wasteland today? As much as Nature takes back and rebuilds, it is in her own image, and not those of the people of New Orleans. And the ones who survive, no better than vampires, waging war against one another for blood in order to live another day. What is a day in the life of a live oak tree, Daniel? What is one human day in the life of an ecosystem? Nothing. And still, we cannot see.”

He looked sad then, and patted Daniel on the knee. “You can’t build a future when no one lives to be older than fifty-five.”

Daniel paused, unsure how to reply to the old man’s sudden outburst. “Fen said you are the oldest man in the Delta.”
Except for Warren Abernathy James,
he thought. Not that the scientist in his chemically sustained twilight could truly be called alive.

Mr. Go stood up. “I am an anomaly. I live here for the protections it gives me, and I hold these plants, these life-forms, in trust for the Delta, for the world. This is Noah’s Ark,” he said with a smile, and walked over to a gardening table half covered in vines. He pulled a crate from beneath it and made himself busy lining it with moss. When he was done, he brought it over to the table, along with a stool to set the crate on. “As I recall, Noah lived to the ripe old age of nine hundred.” Again, the bright smile in the dark face. “But for me, the floodwaters have yet to recede.”

INQUIRY:
Database search, Simeon Wells.

RESPONSE:
Wells, Simeon. Doctor of Biology, University of Chicago. Doctor of Environmental Engineering, University of Chicago. Rhodes Scholar. Dr. Simeon Wells is believed dead. Last known location, New Orleans, Louisiana, 2015. There is an outstanding warrant for his arrest.

INQUIRY:
Recite warrant charges.

RESPONSE:
Crimes against the citizens of the state of Louisiana. Crimes against the citizens of the United States. Crimes against humanity.

INQUIRY:
State evidence.

RESPONSE:
Data error 4401.

The digital voice faded, replaced by a thin crackle of static. Daniel shook his head and checked his wristband. The battery still worked, but the chip inside had crapped out again. Daniel switched the datalink to the off position, disengaging it from his earpiece.

With all the vials lost, he’d been ready to give up, just find his way back over the Wall. Warning Fen would gain her nothing but worry. She might even risk going back down the hole. This way, the virus was at least hidden from the world. But now this. Honeybees, cultivated by a wanted criminal.

Little wings of hope tickled at Daniel’s middle. What would Mr. Go do if Daniel told him about the lost virus? What
could
he do? Help cure the Fever? Keep the virus safe?

Or finish destroying the city, the way the datalink implied he had done years before. Mr. Go was a mystery, not an ally. He didn’t seem dangerous, but the datalink’s last words had given Daniel just enough reason to doubt him. If only he could access the Internet.

“Son, are you all right?”

The interface with the broken datalink had only taken a moment. He nodded. “Sorry. Just some sort of . . . suit issue.”

Mr. Go gave him a considering look and nodded. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like something to eat or drink?”

“I’m sure,” Daniel replied. Inwardly, he cursed his equipment, his doubts, and everything that had brought him here. Orleans had been a mistake, his mission a failure. The sooner he got back over the Wall, the better.

Just then, Fen came back into the room, the baby cradled in her arms. “Okay, Daniel,” she said. “Show him the virus.”

33

DANIEL DON’T MOVE. HE JUST STARING AT ME
like a stunned bird. I roll my eyes. My plan for Baby Girl always been to get her to Father John so he get her out of Orleans. But Daniel showed up with his virus, saying it be halfway to a cure, and I can’t help but stop a second and think. Maybe between the two of them, Daniel and Mr. Go can turn the virus into a cure. No more Delta Fever mean no more blood hunters, no more blood whoring like Mama Gentille. No more Wall. With a cure, we just a step away from Lydia’s dream. And her baby could stay with me, be my family. A new tribe.

“Go on, Daniel. Tell him about the virus. You can trust him,” I say, but Daniel look away from me and my stomach start to sink. “What?” I ask.

Daniel’s mouth open and close again without making a sound. Then Mr. Go stand up. “Here, child, let him be for now. We have other things to attend to.” Mr. Go wave me over, and I see he done set up a crate for the baby. I watch him lay a clean cloth over the bed of moss inside. “Let us see this child of God.”

I lay her down and she seem to like it okay, but it feel strange to not be having her in my arms. Mr. Go bend over the cradle. Out the corner of my eye, I see Daniel relax, and I cut him a look so he know he still got some talking to do. But first, we gonna talk about Lydia.

“Hello, baby,” Mr. Go say. “Is it a boy or a girl?”

“Girl.”

“Well then, hello, Daughter of Eve,” Mr. Go say. He lift Baby Girl in the air and I be glad I changed her diaper. “Thank goodness it’s not cold in here,” he say. “We shall have to find you some clothes.” He look at me, then point to his worktable with his chin. “I have a present for your chieftain in the workbench over there.” I open the drawer below the tabletop and pull out a package wrapped in brown paper. I unwrap it and find three soft white baby shirts, two with long sleeves, one without.

“I’ve been working on creating a variety of silks from plant fibers. Unlike the honeybees, silkworms have proven more difficult to encourage,” he say with a chuckle. “Still, the milkweed silk is quite durable, as are certain breeds of corn silk. I’ve taken the liberty of making what we used to call a layette.”

“They beautiful,” I tell him. “And so soft.”

Mr. Go smile, satisfied. Baby Girl be all settled in his arms like it a natural place to be. “Indeed. Washable, too. Durable as the Delta itself.” He run a long finger down the baby’s cheek and smile again. “I do find crochet to be relaxing. So, now I have met the child. I presume she belongs to Lydia. Where is the mother herself?”

My face grow hot and I take my time answering. Saying it out loud gonna make it feel real, so I put it off as long as I can. I stuff two of the baby shirts in my pack and put the third on Baby Girl. I take her from Mr. Go to thread her little arms through the sleeves. When I look up at Mr. Go again, my eyes be burning, but I don’t cry.

“She be dead. Baby coming killed her.”

Mr. Go’s head drop to his chest. “I see,” he say softly. “Why didn’t she come to me? We had talked about having the birth here. Perhaps I could have—”

“ABs attacked our powwow with the O-Negs,” I tell him. “La Bête be on the warpath. He got weapons coming in over the Wall.”

Mr. Go look like he the one who gonna cry now. That a lot of bad news to take all at once. “I suppose it is that time again,” he say. For a minute, he look even older. “Your whole tribe is gone, then?” he ask.

I shrug and shift Baby Girl to my other arm. “Far as I know.”

He look at me for a long time with them old eyes of his. Only other eyes look that old and wise to me be Baby Girl’s. I wonder if she ever gone grow to be his age.

“Where will you go, Fen? Where will
she
go?”

Don’t know about me, but for Baby Girl, at least, I have an answer. “I’ma take her to Father John, have him get her out of the Delta. She young enough for it. And that what Lydia would want.”

“Father John . . . did you contact the Coopers? You always did love your sponsor family.” He smile and I know we both thinking how Orleans used to be.

“You got any better ideas?” I ask him. “You looking to take on a baby girl?”

Mr. Go shake his head. “I’m old, Fen, too old to become a father now, or even a guardian to one so young. By Orleans standards, I should be dead already. And we both know what happens to young freesteaders who lose their parents.”

I look down at the little girl in my arms—my seared, twisted skin—and swallow hard. “Yeah,” I agree.

“But a baby and a young woman,” Mr. Go continue. “There might be a place for both of them here.”

It ain’t the first time he offered it. Shoot, if Mr. Go had his way, my folks woulda come here when they left the Professors, and maybe all three of us still be living here today.

Mr. Go’s place be nice enough, and secure, too. But it ain’t nothing but a big containment suit in the end. He stuck in here just like Dr. Warren and them others be stuck in the infirmary at the Institute. Being OP, we ain’t as likely to spread Fever to him, long as we ain’t mixing blood. But I ain’t never been able to picture that as my kind of life. Sure, I can come and go, but we a long way from anywhere I’d be headed, like the Market. If I leave here, I’d be going alone. And if something happen and I don’t come back? Baby Girl got no one but Mr. Go, and like he said, he ain’t gonna be around forever.

“No,” I say finally. “The three of us ain’t enough. A baby need more than two folks watching her. She need a tribe.” If I had a tribe when I been younger, if my folks stayed with the Professors, or even Father John, things mighta been different. “Tribe is life,” I tell him.

Mr. Go don’t look too surprised, but he ain’t happy about it, neither. “Well, at least stay with me ’til this war blows over. The ABs can’t sustain their violence forever.”