little round organisms in the brains of every one of them."
"Rabies again," Blake muttered. But no. Rabies was only a virus, preventable and curable.
"Eli's wife tried to make antibodies," Meda said. "It didn't work. I don't remember what else she tried. I didn't understand, anyway. But nothing worked except reinfection. They found out about that by accident. And it works better person-to-person than person-to-syringe. Maybe that's just psychological, but we don't care. We'll use anything that works. That's why I'm here with you."
"You're here to try to make a good carrier of me," he said. She shrugged. "You'll be that or die. I'd rather live myself."
There was another answer. There had to be. He could not find it with only his bag, but others, researchers with lab computers, would sooner or later come up with answers. First, though, they had to be made aware of the questions.
He turned to look at Meda and saw that she had stripped. Surprisingly, she looked less scrawny without her clothing. More like the human female she was not. What could her children be like?
She smiled. "All my clothes are too big," she said. "I put them on and I look like a collection of sticks, I know. Maybe
now I'll buy a few new things next time I'm in town."
He ignored the obvious implication, but could not ignore the way she kept reading him. He became irrationally afraid that she was reading his mind, that he would never be able to keep an escape plan from her. He tried to shake off the feeling as he proceeded with the examination. She-said nothing more. He got the impression she was sparing him,
humoring him.
He asked to examine others in the community when he finished with her, but she was not ready to share him with anyone else.
"Start checking them tomorrow if they'll let you," she said. "You'll smell different then. Less seductive." "Seductive?"
"I mean you'll smell more like one of us. Nobody will take any special pleasure in touching you then." She had dressed again in her loose, ugly clothing. "It's sexual," she said. "Or rather, it feels sexual. Touching you is almost as good as
screwing. It would be good even if I didn't like you. If not for people like you- people we have to catch and keep, I
could never control myself enough to go into town. With no outlet it gets . . . painful and crazy, sort of frenzied when there are a lot of unconverted people around. I have dreams about suddenly finding myself moving through a crowd- maybe on a big city street. Moving through a crowd where I have no choice but to keep touching people. I don't even know whether to call it a nightmare or not. I'm on automatic. It's just happening."
"You'd like it to happen," he said, watching her.
"Pigshit!" she said, abruptly angry. "If I wanted it to happen, it would happen. I'd get in my car and I'd drive. I could infect people in towns from here to New York. And I'd do exactly that if I ever had to leave this place. There would be no one to help me, stop me." She hesitated, then sat down on the bed beside him. He managed not to recoil when she took his hand. He was getting information from her. Let her touch him as long as she kept talking.
"You've got to understand," she said. "It's really hard on us the way we limit our growth. We can only do it because we're so isolated. But if you escaped-with or without your kids-we'd have to escape too before you could send people here to corral us. I don't know where we'd go, but chances are, we'd have to split up. Now you imagine, for instance, Ingraham out there on his own. He was high-strung before, and damned undisciplined. He doesn't shake because there's more wrong with him than with the rest of us. He shakes because he's holding himself back almost all the time. He respects Eli and he loves Lupe. She's going to have his kid. But you force him out of here, and all by himself, he'll start an epidemic you won't believe."
"And you're saying that will be my fault," Blake said angrily. She was boxing him in. Everything she said was intended to close another exit.
"We'll do anything to avoid being locked up," she said. "I'll do anything to keep my sons from being taken from me." "Nobody would take your-"
"Shut your mouth! They'd take them. They'd treat them like things. If they killed them-accidentally or deliberately, it would just be one of their problems solved."
"Meda, listen-"
"So if you're afraid of an epidemic, Doctor, don't even think about leaving us. Even if you spread the word, you can't possibly stop us." She switched tracks abruptly. "I'm starving. Do you want anything to eat?"
He was disoriented for a moment. "Food?" "We eat a lot. You'll see."
"What if you didn't?" he asked, immediately alert. "I mean, I couldn't have put away the meal I saw you eat only a few hours ago. What if you just ate normally?"
"We do eat normally-for us." "You know what I mean."
"Yeah, I know. You're still seeking weakness. Well, you've found one. W^e eat a lot. Now what are you going to do?
Destroy our food supply?" She produced a key from somewhere, seemingly by magic. Her hands actually were quicker than his eyes. "Don't even think about doing anything to the food," she said. "Someday I'll tell you how people like you smell to my kids." She let herself out and slammed the door behind her.
She returned sometime later, bringing him a ham sandwich and a fruit salad. "I'd like to see my daughters," he told her.
"I'll see," she said. "Maybe I can bring you one of them for a few minutes."
Her cooperativeness pleased but did not surprise him. She had children of her own and she could see that his concern was genuine; there was no reason for her to find that concern suspect.
He was lying down, tired and frightened, hanging on to the bare bones of an escape plan when Eli brought Keira in. Keira seemed calm. Eli left her without saying a word. He locked her in and probably stood outside listening.
"Are you all right?" Blake asked.
She answered the question he intended rather than the one he had asked. "He hasn't touched me," she said. She did not sit down, but stood in the middle of the room and looked at Blake. He looked back, realizing that for her sake, he could
not touch her either. Such a simple, terrible thing. He could not touch her.
"He said Meda scratched you," she whispered. Blake nodded.
"He told me about the disease and . . . where he got it. I didn't know what to think. Do you believe him?"
" 'Her' in my case." Blake stared through the bars of the window into the desert night. "I believe. Maybe I shouldn't, but
I do."
"Rane always says I'll believe anything. At first, I was afraid to believe this. I do now, though." "Have you seen Rane?"
"No. Daddy?"
He looked away from the bright full moon, met her eyes and saw that in a moment she would come to him, disease or no disease.
"No!" he said sharply.
"Why?" she demanded. "What difference does it make? Someone's going to touch me sooner or later, anyway. And even if they don't, I've probably already got the disease-from the salad or the bread or the furniture or the dishes . . . What's the difference?" She wiped away tears angrily. She tended to cry when she got upset, whether she wanted to or
not.
"Why hasn't he touched you?"
She looked at Blake, looked away. "He likes me. He's afraid he'll kill me." "I wonder how long that will stop him?"
"Not long. He obviously feels terrible. Sooner or later, he's going to just grab me."
Blake opened his bag again, turned it on, and keyed in a prescription form. "ARE YOU LOCKED UP?" he typed. "ARE YOUR WINDOWS BARRED?"
She shook her head, mouthed, "No bars." "THEN YOU CAN ESCAPE!"
"Alone?" she mouthed. She shook her head.
"YOU MUST!" he typed. "AT TWO A.M., I'LL TRY. I WANT YOU WITH ME!" Aloud, he said, "I can't help you, Kerry."
"I know," she whispered. "Most of the time, I'm not even worried about myself. I'm worried about you and Rane. I
don't even know where Rane is."
He began typing soundlessly again. "THEN BREAK FR
EE ALONE! THEY THINK YOU'RE HELPLESS. THEY'LL BE CARELESS WITH YOU."
She shook her head as she read the words. "I can't," she mouthed. "I can't!" "Are you having any pain?" he asked aloud. "Did you take your medicine?"
"No pain," she said softly. "I had some, but I told Eli and he got my medicine from the car. He wore what he called his town gloves." She glanced at the door. "He said if he wasn't careful, he could transmit the disease just by paying for
supplies. They all have to wear special gloves when they're in town."
"Yet they deliberately spread the disease to people like us," Blake said. He wiped everything he had typed and began again on a clean form. "YOU MUST ESCAPE! THERE'S AN EPIDEMIC BREWING HERE! WE MUST GIVE WARNING, GET TREATMENT!"
She was shaking her head again. God, why hadn't Meda sent Rane to him? Rane would be afraid, too, but that would not stop her.
"EVEN IF I FAIL," he typed, "YOU MUST TAKE THE CAR AND GO--OR WE COULD ALL DIE. DO YOU REMEMBER HOW TO START THE CAR WITHOUT THE KEY?"
She nodded.
"THEN CO! SEND BACK HELP. GIVE WARNING!"
Tears ran down her face, but she did not seem to notice them. He spoke aloud with painfully calculated brutality. "Meda told me people with serious injuries die of the disease. She's seen them die. She didn't say anything about people with serious illnesses, but Kerry, she didn't have to." He gave her a long look, trying to read her, reach her. She knew
he was right. She wanted to please him. But she had to overcome her own fear.
He typed, "SOONER OR LATER, ELI WILL TOUCH YOU-AT LEAST." She read the words without responding.
"BE NEAR THE WAGONEER TONIGHT," he typed. "AT TWO." She swallowed, nodded once.
At that moment, there was a sound at the door. Instantly, Blake shut off the computer, automatically wiping the prescription form and everything he had typed. He closed the bag and turned to face the door just as Eli opened it.
Blake looked at Keira, aching to hug her. He felt he was about to lose her in one way or another, but he could not touch her.
PAST 9
Within twenty-four hours, Eli had infected everyone on the mountaintop ranch. He had also talked the old man, Gabriel Boyd, into giving him a job as a handyman. Boyd was not willing to pay much more than room and board, but room and board was all Eli really wanted-a chance to stay and perhaps save some of these people.
He was given a cot in a back room that had been used for storage. He was given his meals with the family, and he worked alongside the men of the family. He knew nothing about ranching or building houses, but he was strong and willing and quick. Also, he knew his Bible. This in particular impressed both the old man and his wife. Few people read the Bible now, except as literature. Religion was about as far out of fashion as it had ever been in the United States-a reaction against the intense religious feeling at the turn of the century. But Eli had been a boy preacher during that strange, not entirely sane time. He had been precocious and sincere, had read the Bible from Genesis to Revelation, and could still talk about it knowledgeably. Also, Eli knew how to be easygoing and personable, a refugee from the city, grateful to be away from the city. He knew how to win people over even as he condemned them to illness and possible death.
He wanted them all to start showing symptoms at about the same time, and he wanted that time to be soon. Left to themselves, infected people feeling their symptoms tended to huddle together in an us-against-the-world attitude. If everyone became ill at the same time, he would have less trouble keeping individuals from trying to go for help. He had started what could become an epidemic. Now, if he were going to be able to live with himself at all, he had to contain it.
He worked hard on the house that was intended for the son named Christian-Chris to everyone but his father. Christian's wife Gwyn was going to have a baby and Christian had decided that the house would be finished before the baby arrived. Eli did not know or care whether this was possible, but he liked Christian and Gwyn. He worried about what the disease might do to a pregnant woman and her child. Whatever happened would be his fault.
Sometimes guilt and fear rode him very nearly into insanity, and only the exhausting hard work of building kept him connected to the world outside himself. He liked these people. They were decent, kind, and in spite of the angry God they worshipped, they were remarkably peaceful and uncorrupted by the cynicism and violence outside. They were
good people." Yet it was inevitable that some of them would die.
The daughter Meda was doing her best to add to his burdens by seducing him. She had no subtlety, did not attempt any. "I'd like to sleep with you," she told him when she got her courage up. He had known since he met her that she wanted to sleep with someone, and would settle for him. He fended her off gently.
"Girl, what are you trying to do? Get yourself in trouble and get me shot? Your people have been good to me." "They wouldn't," she said, "if I told them who you are. They think heaven is only for God and his chosen."
He became serious. "Don't play games with me, Meda. I like your honesty and I like you, but don't threaten me."
She grinned. "You know I wouldn't tell." "I know."
"And if I can keep one secret, I can keep two." She touched his face. "I'm not going to let you alone."
Her touch produced an interesting tingle. She was coming into her time. He had apparently arrived just after her time of fertility the month before. That had been a blessing. He had been able to avoid the other two young women, but Meda would not let him avoid her. Now, she had no idea the trouble she was courting. She probably imagined a romantic
interlude. She did not imagine being thrown on the rocky ground and hurt-inevitably hurt.
"No," he said, pushing her away. She was still smiling when he turned from her and began hammering in siding nails. She watched for a while, and he discovered he enjoyed the attention. He had not believed women outside the crew would want to look at him with his body so changed. Meda was trouble, but he was sorry when she decided to leave. She looked as though she had lost a little weight, he noticed.
As she walked away, her brother Christian came out of the main house and stopped her. They were too far from Eli to worry about his hearing them, but he heard every word.
"That guy been talking to you, Mead?" Christian demanded. Eli could not recall having heard Christian refer to him as
"that guy" before. For Christian this was damned unfriendly.
"Sure he has," Meda said. "I came out here to talk to him. Why shouldn't he talk to me?" Blast her honesty! "What'd you say to him?"
"What did you do this morning, Chris? Look in the mirror and mistake yourself for Dad?" "What did he say to you?"
Eli looked at them and saw even over the distance that she smiled sadly. "Relax," she told her brother. "He said no. He said the family had been good to him and he didn't want trouble."
Christian gave an oddly brittle laugh. "Anybody who recognizes you as trouble has the right idea," he said. "If that guy were white, I'd tell you to marry him."
Meda watched her brother with visibly growing confusion. Living in the house, Eli had heard enough to know Christian
was her favorite brother. They had shared secrets since childhood. Christian knew how tired she was of being an isolated virgin, and she knew how nervous he was about becoming a father. Right now, she knew there was something wrong with him.
"Did you break down and buy some perfume?" he asked. "You smell good."
Eli put down his hammer and stood up. It was beginning. Meda had bathed and she smelled of soap, but she was not wearing perfume. She was simply coming into her time. If she and her brothers lived, they would have to learn to avoid each other at these times. Now, however, Eli might have to help them. He stood still, waiting to see whether Christian could control himself. He realized Meda might not be as much in control as she should be either. He would not let them commit incest. They would be losing enough of their humanity shortly.
Eli jumped down from the floor of
the house and started toward them. At that moment, Christian reached up and touched Meda's face with one trembling hand. Then, with a strange, whining cry, he folded slowly to the ground, out cold.
PRESENT 10
When Eli and Keira were gone, Blake opened his bag and turned it on again. He punched in his identity code, then the words "TIMED SLEEP" and the number three. He hit the deliver button. Moments later, he had a capsule that would put him to sleep for three hours and let him awake fully alert. Next he ordered a much less precise dosage for Meda. This he ordered in injectable form-a sleep tab.
He placed Meda's dosage under the pillow he intended to use, then turned off the bag and closed it. He stripped to his shorts, and got into bed. Remembering Keira, he doubted that he could have slept at all without the capsule. And he had to sleep. If he did not, Meda would look at him and realize he was up to something. She might even figure out what it was. He did not underestimate her any longer.
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