by Ann Christy
“I’ll be damned,” Violet says softly from behind my shoulder.
“And she’s not cured? You’re sure?” Princeton asks.
Emily is sniffing again, her breath pushing in and out of her nose in fast puffs and her eyes half-mast, so I turn to face the visitors. I expected it, but I’m still disappointed to see a mixture of disgust, fear, and maybe even pity on their faces.
“Emily has not received the treatment, no. It’s just like we told you. We wanted to test as many as we could first. Luke is our first successful—well, if you can call it successful—cure. And there are side effects, as we’ve told you.”
“But she can talk. I mean, really talk,” Gordon says, his eyes riveted on Emily.
I nod and say, “Yes, she can. She’s not the first one I’ve seen who can talk, but it seems we were right about the time dead making a difference when it comes to that. Just like before things went bad, people had worse impacts the longer it took to revive them. It’s the same now, only they still become in-betweeners, no matter how long they were dead.”
Violet turns around and goes back down the little corridor to look inside Luke’s cage. Princeton seems fascinated with Emily, but I suppose she is pretty fascinating. Charlie and I came in and cleaned her up after we fed her, with Matt acting as our guard, so she’s cleaner than she’s been for a while. I explained about the visitors, though she already knew from smelling them when she came back and she had that brief glimpse of Violet.
She was very cooperative after her meal and her hair is in braids, shining and clean. Her smock is clean and tied around her waist with a neat bow in the cord. Even so, her cage smells bad and she’s in chains. There’s only so much I can do to dress up the facts.
While he watches her, his thoughts unknown to me, but not showing any fear, Emily starts her humming. At the other end of the corridor, where Charlie waits with his crossbow and Violet watches Luke, I hear the sound of Luke humming in return after a beat.
“Are you going to hurt her? Or us?” Luke asks in a monotone once he stops humming.
Violet steps back from the cage and shoots me a look.
“That’s really Emily asking,” I tell them. To Emily, I say, “They brought more of the nanites, Emily. They brought more so that we can cure more people. We can cure you.”
I’m not at all confident of that anymore. I don’t want Emily to become like Luke. What if she wakes up like him? What if the next in-betweener with some marbles in its head that happens by can make her do stuff like she can Luke? But she wouldn’t understand my worries, so I leave those out.
She must sense my lack of confidence, because she says, “Mehme fine. Mehme naht need.”
Emily fine. Emily not need.
And that worries me as well. She’s becoming too comfortable as she is. She no longer sees it as something bad to be an in-betweener. Of course, she’s not had to live through doing something horrible to people she loves, or harm humans, or had to hunt. She’s been fed and cared for since the moment she woke up. From her perspective, maybe it isn’t so bad.
“Did she just say that she’s fine?” Princeton asks, peering at Emily through the chain link.
“Yes, she did,” I answer, but for some reason I feel like I have to defend her. “But she doesn’t understand. She doesn’t know what that means anymore.”
Charlie draws our attention from his place in the corridor, so I usher the visitors back down the passage and out into the warehouse proper. When we join him, he says, “The others are probably waiting. We said it would only take a few minutes. We should get back.”
Violet nods, shivers a little, and says, “We saw what we needed to. And we’ve got a lot more to tell you. There are plans that need to be made, and soon.”
She looks weary, like she knows she’s about to make another journey that she’s far too tired to make. What we’ve gotten from them so far is that they’ve been on the move for more than two weeks, on foot and hiding. Two weeks and just over eighty miles is not good. We got that far in two days on our bikes. Of course, we weren’t being hunted. They were.
That also means they’ve been on the road for almost as long as we’ve had the nanites and that means a lot of moving pieces we aren’t fully in the know about yet. Yes, we need to talk. We need information.
And that’s not including all we need to hear from Tom about his test. We got a short rundown in the few minutes we’ve had together, but everyone is tired and it’s late, so all I really know is that Emily is more than capable of controlling her in-betweeners, and she has the potential to do a great deal more if we’re willing to give her a little time.
Violet gives a little shake of her head, pushing away the weariness. Gordon takes her hand and they smile tired smiles at each other.
“No time like the present. But first, sleep.” she says.
*****
I can’t take my eyes off of Violet. Savannah had to push me out of the warehouse last night so that I’d leave the visitors alone long enough for them to grab some showers, sleep, and generally recover. But they’ve done that and now we’re all sitting around the courtyard eating breakfast.
And I’m staring.
Everyone is listening while she tells her tale, and I’m just as enthralled as the rest, but it’s more than that. I feel sort of possessive, as if she’s something I found while scavenging that I’m particularly attached to. It’s weird, because I don’t really know her at all, but Tom and the others have filled in the rough sketch I had of her in my mind till it’s almost grown into a heroic comic book character.
As she talks, she finally meets my eyes and gives me a wink, but keeps on talking. I can’t wait to show her what we’ve been able to do. Princeton, too, of course. And now I’m finally seeing the other guy in good light as well. His name is Gordon. He and Violet made some sort of crazy escape from an underground bunker shortly after all this started. That’s a story I’d like to hear.
She and Gordon are clearly together, their hands touching whenever one puts down a cup or plate, but briefly, in the way that people who’ve loved each other for a long time do. I’m glad they have each other and made it here safely.
Charlie nudges me with his shoulder and when I look over, he says, “You’re staring in a sort of creepy way, V.”
I reach out to dab a spot of food off his chin. “At least I’m not drooling.”
He laughs and puts down his empty bowl to slip an arm around my waist. He leans close and says, “Yet.”
Everything is happening the way it should be. I’ve got Charlie next to me, Emily is safe in her cage, one in-betweener is cured, and now, Violet has come with a lot more nanites. As I listen to the three new people tell their story and watch the faces of those listening, something nags at the back of my mind. It takes a few minutes, but then I realize what it is. Everything is going like it should. That can only mean there will be something very bad coming to make up for it.
My sunny mood is gone, just like that.
*****
“So, that’s it for the nanites then? We can’t make any more of them?” Tom asks, his tone grave.
I understand his disappointment. I feel it too. If Violet blew up the hospital and the precious gear inside along with it, then the thousand doses in their packs will do little in the way of helping our world.
Princeton swallows down a not-quite-chewed bite of food and says, “We couldn’t there anyway. Those machines don’t run forever. They need parts that we don’t have, replacement solution for the core printing, all kinds of stuff. I ran it dry.” He pauses and pats the air next to him as if his pack—which he has finally let go of—were still sitting next to him. “But it doesn’t matter. I brought every single core we had left in case we can get to another facility. Aside from the finished thousand—well, it’s really one-thousand forty-seven doses to be exact—I’ve got six ounces of cores in suspension fluid. That’s enough to make another five thousand doses at least.”
That sounds like a lot,
especially to us. There are less than twenty of us and we need just that many doses to clear ourselves, including Emily. But when I think of the wider world, or even of this city and any people still hidden here, it sounds like such a paltry number.
Tom has his head back down, looking at his plate while he pokes at his food. Disappointment is almost radiating off him.
Gordon, who seems to be the quiet sort, but also strangely amusing with his good-natured sarcasm, touches Violet’s arm to stay her when she starts to speak. She gives him the tiniest nod and he says, “I know it seems like we’re making a habit of blowing shi—sorry, stuff—up, but in this case, we bought time and it covered us letting out the last of the prisoners. We took at least one major part of their command unit out in the explosion. And we did get all the nanites that we could get from the place. We have to look at this from a positive viewpoint. We have the instructions, two copies of the drive, and someone who has lots of experience adjusting the correct kind of nanite. This is huge. All we need to do is find another facility. And then we have to be patient.”
Patient? It’s been more than four years. I’m pretty sure I’ve been patient long enough already.
“And we need to leave the area or get rid of the group that came after us,” Gregory says.
Again with the leaving. I’m not in the mood to go around in that useless cycle again. “I’m not leaving. Leaving won’t help us in the end. If we show up at any place that can make the nanites, it will give away who we are. For all we know, these military people have all facilities like that under their control.”
Violet pauses with her fork halfway to her mouth and says, “They aren’t military. At least not all of them, and they are definitely not working on behalf of the military. Don’t lump them into the same pot.”
The way she says it, making it clear that it’s a mistake I shouldn’t keep making, forces a quick, “Sorry,” out of my mouth. We’ve been saying that for a long time, so it’s habit.
Tom comes to my defense. “Violet, it’s an honest mistake. I thought they were military as well. So did you, at first. And they’re all kitted up like they are. Let’s just agree that they’re whatever passes for a military in this new and entirely screwed up world.”
Violet grunts noncommittally in response.
I can’t listen any further. We keep making plans and then we keep waiting and I know they’re dancing around the subject of Emily. Violet has a rather incomplete picture of what’s going on here. We’ve been focusing on her story, because that has the most immediate impact considering the explosives, guns, and the people using those things right here in our city. But I can see Tom fidgeting and a few of the others—namely Gregory and Savannah—sending significant looks at each other.
I really, really hate when they do that. I’m losing trust in them and fast. It feels very conspiracy-like.
“What did you find out during your test of Emily?” I ask Tom.
Violet looks a little confused at my sudden change of subject, and perhaps my tone, but doesn’t say anything. She only looks to Tom for the answers, too. They only know the little bit they got before this meeting started, so she’s naturally curious. It’s nice to see some honest curiosity.
Tom looks wary, like I might freak out on him. He confirms it when he says, “Veronica, you have to promise to listen and not flip out before I get done explaining.”
Am I really so predictable? Apparently, yes.
I nod, but he only quirks an eyebrow up, waiting for me to commit my promise to words.
“Fine, I’ll listen and I won’t freak out,” I say. Then I have a thought and say, “Define freak out. I mean, if I don’t like something, I’m going to argue. That’s not freaking out.”
I feel Charlie’s hand at my waist, giving me a squeeze either to reassure me or to keep me calm. Tom says, “I mean stomping off, doing something stupid like taking Emily out and running off, or anything else in that vein. You’re so defensive when it comes to her that you make it hard to simply discuss it.”
He must see the hurt in my face, because he pauses and gives me a sympathetic look. When I look away, feeling like utter garbage because he’s right, but also very wrong, he says, “I’m sorry to say it like that, Veronica. I really am. But it’s like walking on eggshells when it comes to Emily and you. If we’re going to have this discussion, then it needs to be a discussion.”
They’re all looking at me except the new people. At least they have the good manners not to stare at me. I think they’re embarrassed and that just humiliates me even more. I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks, no doubt turning them bright red, but I muster up whatever backbone I have and look Tom right in the eyes. “And I feel I have to be like that, because none of you seems to care enough. She’s not a hammer or axe. She’s a person. Yet you discuss her like you can use her like an axe. Perhaps if you didn’t, then I wouldn’t feel the need to be so protective.”
I know it was the right thing to say when people stop looking at me. Now they’re the embarrassed ones. Violet gives me an encouraging nod. Just that little bit of validation makes me feel better and more confident.
“You’re right, Veronica. Not that I think of her that way, but that it might appear that way. No, I don’t know her and don’t have the same feelings about her that you do, but I do understand that she’s not a random in-betweener and that she’s important to you. I’ve clearly not shown that, so I’ll make a point of being more mindful of it in the future,” Tom says.
I think he’s telling the truth, but I also think he’s trying to mollify me somewhat. I’m quite sure that all he sees in Emily is another in-betweener. Perhaps the only difference between Emily and all the others kept locked in a basement by a loved one after turning, is that Emily has been instrumental in giving us the cure. I need to remind them of that.
“Without Emily, there would be no cure. There would be no group of us sitting here eating food in safety and comfort. There would have been no escapes from the hospital for all the people left there. And whoever these military people are, they would have had no hitches in whatever plans they have in mind for the world. So, no matter what you may think of her, you owe her. Remember that if you can’t remember anything else about her.”
When I finish, I stare right at Tom. It’s juvenile, but I want him to look away first. He does, but only in response to Gregory, who says, “Alrighty then. I think that’s about enough of that. Tom, let’s just give the group the rundown on what happened and go from there.”
Part Two
All Day, Every Day
Today – Girls Rule
Tom pulls in a deep breath, glances at the warehouse where Emily is, then says, “It’s not just Emily that can control other in-betweeners, but her control is the best we’ve seen. It’s not simply the matter of her short time being dead, I don’t think. While we were setting up and watching, there was a clear pattern. Females, particularly younger ones about your age, almost seem to herd the others. I’ve had some time to think about it and…” He stops then, looking a little embarrassed.
“What?” I urge him. How embarrassing could anything an in-betweener does be? I mean, we’ve seen them puke up toy parts and crap microchips. Seriously, is there anything more?
“Well, I think it might be pheromones. Girls your age have the most potential for that, for…uh…advertising fertility and all that.”
Ah, so that’s why he’s embarrassed. Fertility. I do my best not to laugh.
“Whatever,” I say, waving that off. “So, all of them can do it? Or is it just some of them?”
I think he looks relieved, though I also think Savannah might actually start laughing, so I give her the stink-eye. Charlie looks decidedly amused as well, which is probably to be expected since he’s had experience dealing with Savannah—and her absolute lack of a filter about those things—for years. Poor Tom, on the other hand, doesn’t appear to have had the pleasure of dealing with girls in a post-apocalyptic world in a really close way bef
ore.
“Uh, no. Not all of them. Well, not in a purposeful way. I mean…” Again he trails off, the amused expressions doing a number on him.
Luckily, Roger steps in neatly for him. “What he’s trying to say is that the low-functioning ones appear to be able to keep others away from them. It’s almost like their broadcasting a “get away from me” signal or something. The higher functioning ones do the opposite and they seem to be herding others into specific activities.”
Tom nods at Roger’s words, stuffing a fork full of food into his mouth, more to cover up his awkwardness than out of hunger, I think.
“And what about Emily?” I ask. It’s very interesting that girls seem to be in charge over in the in-betweener camp, but I want to know how Emily fits in with that. I look from Tom to Roger, waiting for one of them to answer.
It’s Tom who does, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before he speaks. “At first, we just put her at the fence and watched. Nothing much happened at first. Then we put her pets up at the fence and that drew a little attention, primarily from any in-betweeners that happened to be nearby.”
Roger breaks in, saying, “Keep in mind, this took time because every time we had to go near the fence we had to play music at the other end to draw them away. So, there’s a break between each test.”
“Right. Thanks, Roger,” Tom says. “Just like he said, we basically started from zero again at each test, with in-betweeners wandering around after the music stopped. It was only when we put Luke on the fence that we started to see some real changes.”
“They wanted to eat him?” Charlie asks.
It’s a logical thought. Luke is human again. He should be tasty smelling to a bunch of in-betweeners who haven’t had a good meal in a long while.
But Tom shakes his head instead of confirming Charlie’s words. “Nope. Not even close. Instead, it made a couple of the girls—ones I think were pretty high functioning—come up to the fence. They got interested in Emily then as well. If I had to compare it with something, it looked like when two alpha dogs get near each other. There was a lot of sniffing, some growling, a few lunges toward the fence. It really looked like the girls didn’t like Emily coming into their territory.”