The Sudden Star (34 page)

He said, "I'm leaving." Burris tensed, moving closer to Ildico. The young woman shrugged. "I should have left before." She raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you going to stop me?"

"Why should I? You can leave any time you want, long as you don't take anything. That'd be stealing, and I'd have to tell the army."

"I won't take anything."

"Then you better take off your coat," she said. "And your boots, while you're at it. But I wouldn't want you to get cold, so maybe you should keep them. That'll be my present." She gestured toward the door. "Go on."

Surprised, he stood still. "Of course," she continued, "I might still have to let the army know. The major told me today they could use a doctor. You don't mind, do you? Going with the army, I mean. Besides, maybe they won't find you. You're smart. Maybe you can join up with a bunch of migrants."

His shoulders sagged. He felt suddenly tired, too weary to run again. "Well, go on," Ildico said.

He turned away and walked back to the stairs.

Simon twisted the two pieces of wire together with his pliers, made sure they were fastened, and released them. Burris walked on ahead, peering closely at the fence. The spring weather had grown hot, and the bright sunlight hurt Simon's eyes. He felt another headache starting. It was easy work, checking fences; he was grateful for it after the tiring work of preparing the fields. He had hated that, hearing the others laugh at him because he could not handle the horse and plow. At last Big Gus had put him to work with a hoe; his back still ached from that.

Burris was standing by the gate, his back to Simon. He gazed down the wide dirt road that bordered Ildico's land. A group of people trudged along the road, led by two soldiers on horseback. Simon came up to Burris, watching the people approach. There seemed to be about fifty of them, men, women, and children, all shabbily dressed; a few carried tied-up bundles, suitcases, or knapsacks. Two more soldiers rode on each side of the crowd, three others behind it. "Migrants?" Simon murmured to Burris.

The husky man stroked his beard. "Refugees. Didn't think we'd see any this far away."

"Refugees? From where?"

"New York. Ildy and me heard about it over the radio more'n a month ago."

Simon leaned against the wide wooden gate. Ildico kept the radio in her room, René's old room. "She told the others," Burris said. "Didn't nobody tell you?"

"No one tells me a goddamn thing."

"The army's running New York City now. The ones they can't feed are getting forced out, like them there." Burris waved an arm. "The old man always said something like this might happen."

One of the soldiers began to ride ahead. She pulled up in front of them. Her chestnut horse pawed the ground and snorted. Simon, still a bit afraid of horses, stepped back. The soldier held the reins with one hand, brushing the dirt from her torn, untidy khakis with the other. "You need any workers here?" she asked.

Burris shook his head. "Might need some later in the season, but we usually get migrants coming by then."

"That's what all the farmers keep saying. Guess we'll just have to move them through to the next county." She leaned closer to Burris. "We'll be patrolling the whole area. We haven't heard reports of many more heading this way, but we might as well be careful."

Burris nodded grimly. "And you might need a few extra provisions. I understand."

The soldier trotted away. The refugees passed them, looking at Simon with dead, hopeless eyes. A little boy scurried toward him. A woman in a ragged gray dress ran after him. A soldier rode around them, herding them back into the crowd. Simon was trembling. His shoulder muscles were pained and tight. He watched the people pass, imagining their long march; they would be driven through this county, and the next, and the next. A few would drop, most of them would starve. He tried to shake the vision, and could not. His stomach knotted. A frail young couple went by, arms around each other, their thin pale faces weary and despairing.

He couldn't watch them anymore. He turned and climbed over the gate, leaping down into the narrow road which led back to the house. He began to run.

"Hey!" Burris shouted. Simon ran, knowing the man would not follow him. His legs pumped as he passed the apple trees. He was getting soft, letting things like that affect him. Those people were nothing to him. He slowed to a jog, trying to clear his head. His ears hummed. He looked toward the nearby hills; they were growing green, curved hips and breasts under the blue sky. He passed the small herd of cows Ildico kept to provide them with milk and butter; on the other side of the road he saw the planted fields. His mouth twisted; he tasted death. The sun, bright with promise, burned through his skin, heating his bones.

He came to the bend in the road and slowed to a walk. He saw the house, still small at this distance. His fear was gone. He took a deep breath, trying to decide what he would tell Burris later.

He approached the house. Gunnar Allman was outside, hanging sheets on the line. Stella Wren, once a bodyguard of René's, was dumping garbage on the compost heap in back. As Simon came closer, he saw a blue electric car parked near the side of the house; someone from the university was visiting. The chickens clucked at him from behind the wire fence surrounding their coop as he walked by, pointing aggressively with their beaks.

Simon went up to the front porch and stood there uncertainly for a moment before going inside. He heard the murmur of voices as he walked toward the stairs. The door at the end of the hallway suddenly creaked open. Ildico stood there. "I want to talk to you," she said. Her face was pale and drawn.

"I know I'm not supposed to be back this soon," he said as he came toward her. "We saw some refugees from New York on the road. I don't know why, but I couldn't—"

"I don't care about that." She pulled him into the study. A tall black woman sat in a brown leather chair next to a bookcase, her long legs propped up on an ottoman. Ildico shoved him toward a chair under the window. "This is Norita Simmonds," she said. "She's here from the university. One of her students is upstairs with Aisha."

Simon sat down. Ildico fidgeted, pacing the room, finally seating herself across from Norita Simmonds. "Norita knows about doctoring. She teaches over there. She looked at Aisha. She says you were right about her."

Norita, obviously uncomfortable, wrinkled her eyebrows as she looked at Simon. He was silent, not knowing what to say. "She says there's nothing you can do," Ildico whispered, twisting her hands. "She says Aisha's going to die."

"I tried to explain it," Norita said in a low, deep voice. She turned back to Ildico. "She won't get any better, ever. You have to accept that."

"I know," Ildico said. "I always knew, but I was hoping I was wrong."

"It's Mura's Star," Simon muttered, slouching in the chair. "That's what caused it all. No one could do anything about it."

Norita shook her head. "Do you really believe that?"

"Everybody does."

"Everybody doesn't," Norita responded. "I don't. I've talked to other scholars, I've read some of the literature. Some people don't believe a white hole would pose any danger to us at all." She stared intently at Simon. "That star appeared at a time when things were beginning to go very wrong. It was a very impressive spectacle, the brightest object in the sky then. Small wonder people, even some who should have known better, took it as a sign. Soon after that, a virus apparently escaped a laboratory and became virulent, and after that, a war broke out, a war in which nuclear weapons were used. The radiation, the fallout from that, may have caused the virus to become even more deadly. A lot of people, as a result of the fallout, developed various cancers, but the ones with Mura's Syndrome apparently didn't. It may confer immunity. It may actually be the case that, without the virus, things would have been very much worse." She sat up, pulling her long legs off the ottoman. "Some people are seemingly immune to Mura's Syndrome, others contract it. And there seems to be a third group. We've seen a few of them among our younger students, those who are able to live in symbiosis with the virus. Oddly enough, they have perfect health. The virus is present in them and they don't suffer."

"I can't see what difference all of that makes," Simon said.

Norita frowned. "It makes a great deal of difference. Either something over which we had no control brought all this about, or we brought it on ourselves with our own evil and stupidity. I know which I'd rather believe."

"And maybe you're fooling yourself, maybe your preference is influencing what you think."

There was a knock at the door. Ildico jumped to her feet. The door opened; a young, red-haired man stood there. Norita rose, towering over Ildico. "We have to go," she said, "I don't want to be traveling after dark. We left some medication upstairs. It'll keep her calm, at least. Or you can give her the whole bottle at once."

Ildico's head jerked up.

"It would save her from suffering," Norita said firmly. She strode to the door. "We'll show ourselves out." She left with the young man, closing the door.

Ildico sank into the chair again, a look of resignation on her face. She pulled at her thick hair with both hands, smoothing it behind her shoulders. He watched her, suddenly aware of her strength, her steady gaze, the sound of her deep, even breathing, the pounding of her healthy heart. She gazed at him with steady blue eyes, as if understanding everything about him. Her blond hair gleamed; an aura of white light glowed around her.

He said, "I want to ask you something." The sound of his voice rumbled against his ears.

She nodded, waiting. "You've never been sick, have you?" he went on.

She shook her head; the aura shimmered. "Never." His ears hummed. "When I was a kid, and people talked about it, I didn't know what they meant. They said my mother was a crazy. She died after I was born. Later my father got spells. He started saying I killed her."

"You're a mutant, Ildico."

"I don't know what that is."

"It just means you're different from other people. You're genetically different, you have different characteristics."

"I know that." Her voice rippled across the room. "I found it out, I saw things other people couldn't." The aura faded. Her face was blurred now; the light in the room was duller. He rubbed his throbbing temples; the clarity which had pierced his mind was gone.

"What do you do?" he asked. "Read minds? See the future?"

She twisted her mouth into a half-smile. "No, nobody does that. It's more like—I could see trouble when others couldn't, or I'd understand something before anyone else could. People would trust me, listen to me. I can't explain it. Sometimes it's like I'm with people who can't see or hear."

He stood up. He walked toward the door, opened it, and went out into the hallway. Ildico followed, her boots thumping against the floor. He reached the stairway and paused. Her hand was on his wrist, her calluses scraping against his skin. She said, "I know what you're going to do."

"You can stop me."

She released him. He climbed the stairs, hearing her footsteps behind him. Beams of sunlight shone through the tall window above, lighting up the alcove at the top of the stairs. He reached the top and turned toward the narrow corridor leading to Aisha's room. He stopped in front of her door, opened it, and went inside.

The room was dark. Aisha lay on a four-poster bed; at first he thought she was asleep. Then he heard the sheets rustle. The bed cracked. "Simon," she said in a small voice. He went to her and leaned over the bed. "The curtains."

"What about the curtains?"

"I want to look outside."

He crossed to the window and pulled open the heavy drapes. He came back to her, turning her on her side and propping her up with pillows. She gazed solemnly past him. Her eyes were large, her face hollowed and old. Three horses grazed in the field behind the house. As he watched them, one lifted his head, looking toward the window.

"How do you feel?" Simon said, putting a hand to her forehead. He removed his hand quickly. She was burning up, feverish; she should have been delirious. "Are you in pain?"

"No." She waved one hand weakly. "Just tired." She turned her head toward him. "I wanted to tell you, I'm glad I'm here. You probably didn't know it, but I am."

He stood up, afraid that if he sat with her any longer he would lose his nerve. Ildico was standing at the foot of the bed, jaw clenched, shoulders thrown back. He picked up the bottle on the table next to her bed, opened it, and poured the liquid into her glass. "The doctor from the university left you some medicine," he said. "It'll help you." He handed her the glass, helping her put her bony fingers around it.

She lifted the glass to her lips, sipped, then lowered it. Her eyes narrowed. "But it's not going to help me," she said in a low voice. She lifted it again, draining the glass. She dropped it on the floor and it shattered. "That's not why you gave it to me."

"I don't want you to suffer," he whispered.

"That isn't true. I'm not suffering now, I see things, I understand. Ildy would have given that to me so I wouldn't be in pain, but not you. You gave it to me so you wouldn't suffer."

Ildico pushed past Simon and sat on the bed, putting her arms around Aisha. "I'm sorry, Simon," Aisha murmured. She closed her eyes.