Pandora's Genes (4 page)

“Do you mind if I play my instrument?” he asked.

“Was that what I heard last night when you came to our . . . to my parents’ house?”

“It’s called a feathered lyre.”

“I never saw one before.”

“Not many people have. New plants and animals make new instruments, and new songs to be played on them. Before the Change there were hundreds of different instruments for making music, and thousands of songs.”

“Do you know any old songs?” she asked.

“Just the folk tunes that everyone knows. There’s no way to ever know the other ones. That’s why I make up my own. Would you like to hear one?”

She nodded.

Zach smiled and stroked the strings. Evvy watched him, squinting across the fire. He had won the lyre ten years ago, gambling in the Principal’s camp, before the President had been defeated. The lyre usually took years to learn to play well, but he had picked it up right away; the uniquely mournful quality of the lyre’s sound had immediately seemed to suit him and his nature.

He started another tune, then happened to glance at Evvy. Tears were sliding down her cheeks. With a pang of guilt, he stopped playing, then took his time putting the lyre away.

“That’s enough for tonight,” he said. “Time for you to go to bed, young lady.”

“I’m not a child,” said Evvy. “And I’m not tired.” After a moment she lay down on the blanket Zach had spread on her bed of leaves and pulled her cloak over her. Zach wanted to smooth it around her but stayed where he was.

“When will you go to bed?” she asked.

“I have to make sure the fire stays bright to keep bats away.”

“But you have to sleep,” she said.

“Perhaps I’ll doze a little,” said Zach. “I’m used to it. Good night, now.”

Evvy didn’t answer, and Zach shrugged. On the trip to the brewer’s house he hadn’t needed to keep a fire going the one night he was in open bat country. He had simply constructed a very small leaning shelter using his cloak and some branches, then built a small fire near the open end. The glowing embers gave enough light to keep bats from flying directly at his head, while the lean-to protected his body. This arrangement necessitated staying in the tiny tent from the time the sun went down until it rose again. Though Zach had considered making such a shelter for Evvy, he couldn’t be sure that the girl would obey him and remain still all night; besides, he knew it would be uncomfortable and frightening for her.

Zach purposely remained where he was. The ground and the tree he was leaning against were bumpy and slightly damp – uncomfortable enough to keep him awake. For the same reason he did not pull his cloak around himself until his teeth began to chatter.

After a while he got up and stretched, then laid more wood on the fire. It was becoming quite cold, and he extended his legs toward the warmth. It would be tempting to stretch out just for a minute. . . .

Zach was startled by a sound. He leapt up instantly, but the fire was still burning brightly; he hadn’t dozed more than a minute or two. On her bed of leaves Evvy was moaning and twisting. Zach relaxed. The girl was having a nightmare, and no wonder. He knelt by her and put a hand on her shoulder.

“Wake up, Evvy,” he said.

She started awake, eyes wide and terrified. “No!” she cried.

“Shh,” said Zach. “It’s only a dream.”

She pulled away from him, then seemed to come slowly awake, her plum-colored eyes beginning to focus. Zach watched as memories of the day came back to her, and then she looked up at him, less disoriented. “I was dreaming.”

“That’s right, it’s a dream. Go back to sleep now.”

“But it’s not a dream that I’m here. It’s not a dream what happened.”

For a moment Zach couldn’t think what to say, but then he spoke in what he hoped was a soothing voice: “You’re safe here. Nothing will happen to you. It’s all right. Go back to sleep.”

He continued to stroke her shoulder and felt her begin to relax. After a moment, she lay back down. One hand brushed her face, then reached out for Zach’s hand, which was resting on his knee. Very tightly, like an infant, she gripped the hand, then closed her eyes.

For a long time Zach sat with her, looking down at her face, now again peaceful in sleep.

The Principal had told his tax collectors to look for beautiful young girls just between childhood and womanhood. There was no doubt that in many ways Evvy was indeed a young woman, but at this moment as Zach held her hand and watched her sleep, she seemed very much a child.

The quality of the night began to change, and Zach could see by the movement of the stars that dawn wasn’t far. Laying a last load of wood on the fire, and checking that it burned properly, he at last let himself lie down and immediately fell into a dreamless sleep.

When he awoke, full sunlight was shining in his eyes and he knew that he had slept far too long. He sat slowly and saw that Evvy was already up and from the look of her, had washed. She was sitting by the fire, now ashes, and looking at him gravely.

“Good morning,” she said.

“Have you been awake long?” asked Zach.

“I thought you’d want to sleep.”

He sighed. He had hoped to get an early start, just so he would be able to sleep through this coming night. He held in his irritation, touched by the girl’s concern. “Thank you,” he said. “I’m afraid I slept a little too late, though. We’ll have to breakfast quickly.”

“I already had some of the bread Mother sent.”

“Good,” said Zach. “Let’s get started, then, and we can stop in a few hours and finish the rabbit.” He didn’t feel like eating now – his stomach was queasy and his head ached, as if he had had too much to drink. The fly bite on his forearm had begun to itch badly.

He quickly loaded the mount, and they set out, riding hard, not talking. At midday they stopped in a shady area, where Evvy ate most of the remaining meat, while Zach drank horn after horn of water. “Aren’t you going to eat?” she asked.

“Perhaps later. I’m not hungry now.”

She looked concerned. “Do you feel all right?”

“I’m fine,” Zach said. “Just a little tired.” He smiled at her.

The afternoon sun was hot, and as they rode Zach realized how exhausted he was. He’d had a hard ride of almost two weeks to the brewer’s house; this return trip would take even longer with the girl. Zach had to admit to himself that he felt his age, and the many fights he’d been in, and the missions he had undertaken for the Principal.

His knowledge of the area was not exact, but he knew that they were not far from the low foothills, which were pocked with small caves. If they reached the hills before dusk, he could sleep through the night safely. A large fire in the mouth of a cave would still be glowing by morning, and no bat would fly directly across a light, however dim. After a good night’s sleep, with an early start, they might even be out of bat country by late tomorrow. The rest of the journey would be far less trying, because they would follow the river east and south, along the Principal’s roads.

They continued to ride, and still the foothills did not appear. Zach’s exhaustion had grown worse; the effort of guiding the mount down steep paths, of holding Evvy in front of him, had made his arms feel so heavy that they seemed no longer a part of him. His head throbbed with each step the animal took. For a moment he considered stopping short of the foothills and again sleeping in the open. Perhaps he could manage it, just for this one night. . . .

Zach jerked himself upright; he had been dozing. Something was very wrong with him and he knew it was essential now to reach the caves. Evvy sensed his alarm. She turned and looked up at him.

“Maybe we ought to stop soon,” she said, sounding worried.

“We will,” he said. “Just a little farther.”

Once again he started to fall asleep, and only pulled himself back to consciousness when the mount stumbled on a rock.

He was beginning to feel frightened, for himself and Evvy. If the foothills did not appear soon . . . .

“What’s that?” said Evvy. Zach looked in the direction she was pointing and almost wept with relief. Half-buried by dirt, rocks, and vegetation, he recognized the unnatural angles and reddish brown color of dead machine bodies. There were many such burial grounds scattered throughout the District, and almost always some of the bodies were large enough and well enough preserved to serve as shelters. Indeed, the same plants and animals lived in them as in natural caves. Although Zach wasn’t superstitious, he preferred to avoid machines but had used them when necessary.

The bodies were buried just across a shallow stream. Zach dismounted, then walked across the stream, Evvy following him.

“These are dead machines, aren’t they?” asked Evvy. She sounded awed.

“Yes,” said Zach, “and thank the deenas you found them.” He picked up a large bare branch and approached the twisted mass of rock and metal. The first body he came to was large enough, but badly damaged, and in any case it was marred by several large openings, too many to afford protection from bats. The next was suitable but already occupied by snakes, as he discovered when he thrust his branch into it. At last he found a machine body that had only one large, jagged opening. It was also unoccupied, at least for the present.

Zach leaned against the hill that held the machine body for a moment, hoping his strength would return. “Evvy,” he said, “Please help me bring firewood up here. I’m too tired to tend fire in the open tonight.”

She put her hand to her mouth. “But wild deenas live in machine bodies.”

“Nothing lives in machine bodies but snakes and rabbits,” said Zach, irritated. “That’s just a superstition.”

“I’ll make the fire tonight,” Evvy said. “I’ll stay awake.”

“We’re going to sleep here. Now, help me gather wood.” He walked back toward the stream and began selecting branches. Each time he bent over his head felt heavy and his vision blurred. He handed his load of wood to Evvy. “Take this up there and put it inside the machine body.”

She accepted the load but began to cry. “Please,” she said. “I’m scared of the deenas.”

“Do as I say!” he bellowed. “Don’t be such a child!”

Evvy looked shocked and began to cry harder, but she took the wood to the machine body and quickly thrust it just inside. Then she returned and once again followed Zach’s instructions. The last load he took himself. Now all that remained was to unload his things from the mount and bring them back, then build a fire. He would sleep and by morning be himself again.

Zach stood up and started to walk down toward the stream, but his legs refused to cooperate. He felt his body falling back against the harsh earth and metal wall. As he slid toward the ground he saw Evvy looking at him in alarm.

“Evvy,” he said. “There’s something wrong.” But the sounds that came from his mouth were not words, and he had a moment of panic before everything faded away.

Z
ACH DREAMED HE WAS SLIDING
down an endless mountain, his hands unable to get a purchase on rock or limb, his skin scraping from his body bit by bit. At last he came to the bottom and lay there, pebbles and pieces of broken wood sticking into him at throat, belly, and thighs. He tried to roll away from his torment and woke.

At first he didn’t know where he was and thought that he was still dreaming, Gradually, his eyes focused and he saw shadows jiggling, purple and gray. He groaned and rose on one elbow. He was inside a very small cave, the mouth of which was guarded by a badly smoking fire. Beyond the fire all was dark; it was night. He tried to sit up and groaned again, then fell back.

Evvy’s face, small, pale, and frightened, was above his.

“I thought you were dead,” she said.

Now it came back to him, and he realized he must be inside the machine body he had found, with a fire guarding him from bats. Somehow, Evvy had brought him in here and had kindled the campfire. How, he did not know. Why, he could not imagine.

He tried to answer her, but his mouth and throat would not obey his commands.

She understood. “I think you have the fly fever,” she said. “It comes from the green flies that live in the woods. We usually get it as children, and then we never get it again. I never saw a grown-up person have it.”

Zach understood her and again tried to answer, but all that came out of his mouth was groans.

“You can’t talk when you have it,” Evvy went on. “It does something to your mouth and tongue. When you fell before, I thought you were dead, but then I saw you were breathing. I decided to bring you in here, in spite of the wild deenas. You’re so big, but I kept pushing and pulling. I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

Zach understood that she was talking because of her own fears. He wanted to reassure her but could do no more than look at her, and even that was an effort.

“It took a long time to get you in here,” she went on, “and by that time it was getting dark and I was afraid to go back out. So I took your flint and metal and made a fire. I never realized before how hard it is to make one.” She sighed. “I think it’s nearly dawn now. I’ve been awake the whole time. I’m . . . glad you’re alive.”

Zach cursed himself for being unable to answer, to thank her. She had saved his life, a man she could have reason only to hate. He turned his head in humiliation and frustration.

After a moment he felt her cool hand on his forehead.

“I’ll bring you water as soon as it’s light,” she said. “I know you must be thirsty, with the fever.” After another moment she went on: “I hope you don’t mind my talking to you. I was talking to you even when you couldn’t hear me. I kept thinking about the wild deenas, and the bats. I wondered what I’d do if you died. I thought I might take your mount and go home, but I don’t know the way, and I don’t know how to ride. If you want to go to sleep, blink your eyes three times and I’ll be quiet.”

Zach turned his head back to her and summoned all the strength he had to keep from blinking.

“I’ve been thinking all night,” Evvy said. “I know that you have to obey the Principal. And I have to obey my mother and father. With my first-father dead there was no other way to get money. But they wouldn’t tell me what was going to happen to me in the Capital. And they . . . they tied me up so I wouldn’t run away. Why did they do that? Where would I run to? I was so afraid, yesterday. Now that you’re awake I feel safer. When you told me not to be afraid, I believed you. You want to go to sleep, don’t you?”