by Devon Monk
I tried to keep the material between my fingers and Abraham’s skin, but when I accidentally brushed the nape of his neck, he moaned softly.
Just like back at the farm when he’d come to me hurt and bleeding. Just like when I’d first seen the bare skin of him, his shirt cut away so I could tend his wounds.
I’d fallen for him then, a wounded creature I thought I could heal. Then I’d fallen for the man who had stood with me while my world fell apart.
“Shouldn’t we get him blood first?” I asked.
To my surprise, Gloria glanced over at Quinten, her expression shifting out of the studied frown to something softer. Worried.
Quinten had leaned back the chair and was scrubbing fingertips over the back of his head as if massaging a headache there. “Blood can wait, I think,” he said. “It’s more important that we get the bug out first. Then we’ll do the fluid push. After that, blood.”
I raised my eyebrows at Quinten.
“What?” he said.
“I never thought of you as an expert in the medical field,” I said. “Gloria is a doctor.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “For people. She hasn’t worked on many galvanized.”
“None, in fact,” she said.
Oh. There wasn’t anyone more familiar with how a galvanized was put together than Quinten. After all, he was the only man alive I knew who had actually built a galvanized: me.
Gloria got busy scanning Abraham, which took a lot longer with him lying on the table and maybe also because he was galvanized.
Unlike Neds and Quinten, whose road maps were lines of continuous colors that all made a sort of sense, the lines that made up Abraham’s different parts were a hodgepodge of color and loops and knots that branched off or ended abruptly.
The uneven joining made it look like order had been at the bottom of the priority list when he’d been put together.
Looking at all his parts, at how different they all were, I thought it might be better that he couldn’t feel. Maybe being numb was a kindness so the galvanized weren’t in constant pain from their grafted bits.
Gloria found the bug in the webwork that was centered in his chest and pulled out the scissor-syringe device.
“His heart?” I asked.
“No, but very close,” she said.
I touched the back of her hand and she paused, searching my gaze. I don’t know what she saw there; maybe fear.
“I’ll be careful,” she said. Then she pushed the tip of the instrument deep enough to puncture the film, twisted, and yanked.
Even though he shouldn’t be nearly conscious enough to feel it, Abraham moaned. I hated that he had felt it at all. I hated knowing how much worse it would have been if he were awake.
The bug wriggled. A pulse of raw electricity spun and unspun in a knot that dangled between the blades of the device in Gloria’s hands, dripping sparks and blood. She squeezed the handles of the instrument together and sliced the knot in half.
A loud snap and the smell of burned wires filled the room.
“Nicely done,” Quinten said. “Quick. Clean. Now let’s see to flushing his system, and then blood.” He groaned but was on his feet.
Before I could tell him I didn’t think he was recovered enough to be tending to someone else, he gently but unceremoniously moved me aside.
“What can I do?” I asked as he and Gloria began pulling out drawers and piling tubes and other items on top of Abraham.
“I’d kill for some food,” Quinten said. “Gloria, do you have anything, or should we go out for a supply run?”
“Plenty in the kitchen,” she said. “Help yourself.”
“That way, Tilly.” Quinten pointed, and I realized my brother had a rather intimate knowledge of the layout of the place. The way he and Gloria were working in sync with each other even though they weren’t talking, on top of how they were avoiding looking in each other’s eyes for too long but couldn’t help but sneak glances at each other, got me wondering a few more things.
Like how much of my brother’s other annual trips had been spent here with her. I could ask why he’d never told me this about her—that she was his girlfriend—but Quinten wasn’t the only one who was hungry.
“Feel like giving me a hand in the kitchen?” I asked Neds.
He leaned one hip on a table near the debugging booth, his arms crossed over his chest. Left Ned was scowling, which is to say he had on his normal expression.
Right Ned watched me with that spark of curiosity in his eyes. That was pretty normal too.
“Isn’t it your turn to cook?” Right Ned said, following me.
I grinned. “We get back to the farm in time, and I’ll do more than cook. I’ll bake pies. Every fruit I can get my hands on. But since we’re here . . .” I pushed through the door Quinten had pointed at and stepped into a tidy, compact modern kitchen. “Let’s check the cupboards and see what’s fast and easy.”
Neds found a couple of big cans of soup, and I pulled out a loaf of bread, cheese, and olives, and sliced up some fresh tomatoes. Didn’t take long for a meal of soup and grilled-cheese sandwiches, enough for all of us, to be spread on the table,.
“I’ll see if they’re done,” I said.
Right Ned tipped his chin in acknowledgment. He hadn’t bothered waiting and was already chewing on a bite of sandwich, while Left Ned slurped down some soup.
The rich cheese, warm bread, and toasted butter smell, along with the fresh fragrance of tomatoes, made me want to dive face-first into my portion of the meal.
Instead I strode out into the other room, apparently quietly enough that my brother and Gloria didn’t hear me coming.
Of course, it might also have been that kiss they were both so engaged in that distracted them from the sound of my footsteps.
4
This journal is for you. It is my apology, my chance to make up for what I did to you.
—from the diary of E. N. D.
I supposed the polite thing to do would be to leave them some privacy. Give my brother and Gloria time to finish off that kiss as slowly as they wanted. But I hadn’t ever seen my brother kiss a woman.
And it had been years since I’d had something to tease him about. Yes, we were running for our lives. Didn’t mean we were dead.
“Soup’s on!” I said, loud and cheery.
It was all kinds of fun to watch my brother’s shoulders tighten up like I’d just snapped a string on his back.
“Oh, goodness,” I said. “I see you’re both busy. Sorry to interrupt.”
He didn’t respond to me, but made a rather loving and slow disengagement from Gloria. His fingertips tightened just slightly on the side of her face, as if he regretted having to let her go like a drowned man regrets being out of air, before he stepped back a bit so none of him was touching any of her.
It was so tender, I almost felt bad about breaking them up. Almost.
“Matilda?” he said, still looking into Gloria’s eyes. “What is it?”
“I thought you were hungry,” I said. “We made soup. And sandwiches.”
Gloria nodded, so slightly I almost didn’t catch it.
Quinten finally turned to me. Frustration heated his eyes. I gave him a grin and he sighed.
“We are hungry,” Quinten said. “I am,” he corrected, his stomach growling. “Thank you so much for letting us know the food is ready.”
“Sure,” I said, ignoring his sarcasm. “How is Abraham?” He seemed to be resting beneath a clean sheet and light blanket, the machines next to him feeding fluid into his chest.
“Doing well enough.” Gloria’s voice was a little husky. She cleared her throat and walked away, her back toward me and Quinten, as if she had something important to do that would keep her hands off my brother.
Okay, now I did regret interrupting.
Sorry, I mouthed to Quinten, but he just shook his head, his faint smile promising revenge.
“We set up a push of fluids,” she continued in a businessl
ike tone, “and chemicals that should neutralize the Shelley dust. After that, blood. He should wake soon.”
“Do you know how soon?” I asked.
“A few hours?” She glanced at Quinten, and they held that gaze a little too long before he nodded.
“Perhaps by morning, I think,” he said. “At the earliest. He’ll sleep the night.”
“So, we’ll need a place to stay,” I said.
“You can stay here,” Gloria said. “I expected it, really.”
“Do you have room for us all?” I asked. My brother had gone awfully still again, and I could guess what sort of thoughts were running through his head about a night spent here. With her.
“I suppose we could double bunk if we need to,” I pressed innocently. “Maybe the two of you could share a room?”
Quinten blushed red up his neck and threw me a look that said he was going to make me pay for teasing him so hard.
I couldn’t stop grinning. It was sort of delightful to see my older brother blush up and get prickly just because I’d noticed he had a girlfriend.
I mean, good for him and all that. I didn’t expect him to live a life of solitude. He’d mentioned other women he’d briefly dated. But he had never brought anyone home to the farm. He’d never even told me that there was a woman out in the world whom he still cared for. I liked Gloria, had worked with her off and on over the years by radio and vid feeds.
I was a little disappointed he hadn’t wanted to tell me about their relationship.
Maybe he hadn’t wanted to bring her home because he would have risked her knowing about the land, the odd creatures that we kept on it, and, of course, his odd little sister: me.
Or maybe this thing, whatever it was between him and Gloria, was private and precious to him. Something a little sister shouldn’t be tormenting him over because his heart was already tormented enough.
I couldn’t help it; I glanced at Abraham. Okay. So maybe I understood not wanting to tell someone about feelings that were taking root in you before you knew what sort of thing they were going to bloom into.
“We could find another place to stay,” Quinten said, not looking at Gloria, his gaze burning instead into me.
I suddenly realized it might have been a tactical error to annoy the supergenius. He was probably already plotting his revenge. And he was both a creative and clever man.
“We don’t want to put you in more danger,” he said.
“No need,” Gloria said a little too quickly. “There are sleeping quarters upstairs. A half-dozen beds. You aren’t the first visitors in the night who have come to me for medical attention. I always have room.” She pressed her hands together, but her eyes were for Quinten alone.
He took a careful breath and schooled his face. I was amazed at how quickly and calmly he shut off any indication of his emotions. He turned toward Gloria.
“Please,” she said. “I want you to make yourself at home. What I have is yours.”
“Glory,” Quinten said quietly. “We don’t want to cause you any trouble. And we are in so much of it.”
“You haven’t. You won’t,” she said. “No matter how much you’re in. Please stay. I want you to.”
From the silence between them, from the stillness that said they would both be running into each other’s arms if a certain person weren’t also in the room, I knew this was more than just a stolen kiss. Whatever Quinten had with Gloria was wrapped up in a past that seemed filled with regret.
For both of them.
It wasn’t like he could stay to mend those regrets.
Maybe we shouldn’t have run here. Or maybe he’d wanted to come here for this last good-bye.
“Okay, then. Well, so,” I said awkwardly, no longer feeling up to teasing him. “There’s soup ready when you want it.” I turned to leave.
“Soup sounds wonderful,” Gloria said, walking past Quinten and over to me.
“There’s no rush,” I said. “We can keep it hot if you two need a little time to”—I waved my hands in the air—“catch up.”
“I haven’t eaten since breakfast.” She pressed her warm, strong hand against my arm kindly as she walked past me. “I think a little hot food will clear my head.”
I watched her walk down the short hall to the kitchen.
My brother was going to kill me.
“Matilda,” he said in a warning tone.
I twisted on my feet to look back at him. “Did I interrupt something important?” I asked with an innocence I had no right to claim.
“Yes. But it’s not what you think.”
“Really? Because I’m pretty sure most medical procedures end with a handshake, not a tongue down someone’s throat.”
He tipped his head, raising one eyebrow. “Are you done? You know I can make you regret every word.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” I grinned, warming up. “You have been gone for three years, Quinten Case. Seems like I have an awful lot of teasing all stored up in me, bursting to get out.”
“Obviously,” he drawled. “Do you think you can control yourself long enough that I can eat? I’m starving.”
“I’ll do my best,” I said. “No guarantees.”
He shook his head, then walked up to me and draped his arm over my shoulder, squeezing me gently. “You are a pain in the neck, Matilda Case. I missed you.”
I slipped my arm around his too-thin waist as we walked toward the kitchen.
It had been a long, long time since we’d been together. I leaned my head briefly on his shoulder that smelled faintly of Gloria’s perfume and was just happy that he was alive. “I love you too,” I said.
“I know.” He planted a kiss on the top of my head. “Thank you for saving me from House Orange,” he mumbled softly into my hair. He gave me one last squeeze, then stepped back to hold me at arm’s length and give me a disapproving glare. “It took you long enough.”
“And you’re welcome.” I made a face at him. “It’s not like you had a bug on you I could track, you know.”
“Yes, well, we’ll have to come up with some other kind of system if it ever happens again.”
“Which it won’t,” I said.
“But if it does.”
“It won’t,” I repeated.
“We will have another way to find each other,” he said. “I’m done with bugs.”
We walked into the kitchen.
Neds had finished off his share of the meal and was standing by the coffeepot with a mug in his hand, waiting for it to finish perking.
Gloria sat at the small table in the middle of the kitchen where we’d set out the meal. She looked up as we walked in. “I was just telling Mr. Harris . . .”
“Just Neds,” Right Ned said.
“I was just telling Neds,” she said, “that the cleansing process on Abraham appears to have gone very well. His vital signs improved immediately, and with the addition of blood, he should be much better soon. Galvanized are very resilient.”
“That’s good,” I said, relief unknotting in my stomach. I knew logically that galvanized couldn’t die unless someone went to a lot of effort to destroy the brain. But to rely on that logic without physical proof was a leap of faith I’d been holding my breath on. It was hard to look at Abraham and not see him as a dying man.
“I’d like to know where he got that thread that’s holding him together,” she said, giving the thread that was visible on my hands a pointed look.
Quinten sat across from her and filled a plate and bowl with food. “Family recipe,” he said, lifting the sandwich up to his mouth. “Experimental, secret, and all that.”
“Just like everything else about your family,” she said. “Experimental, secret. And all that.”
He chewed and tipped his hand side to side, shrugging one shoulder. Gloria just gave him a small, intimate smile.
I took my place at the end of the table, my back to the door, and dished out my food.
Quinten wasn’t the only one who was starving. Other than
a few sips of thermos coffee, I hadn’t eaten anything in almost twenty-four hours.
I dug in, and the conversation fell silent while Quinten and I polished off the rest of the food.
Neds put cups down for all of us and filled them with thick black coffee.
“Fresh cream in the icebox,” Gloria said, pointing.
Neds retrieved that and gave us each a dollop.
Like I’ve said, coffee isn’t my drink of choice, but the heat and caffeine was a welcome chaser to the meal.
Neds stood near the stove, passing one cup of coffee between his hands as both Right Ned and Left Ned took turns drinking from the cup.
“What’s the bunk situation?” Left Ned asked.
“There are beds upstairs.” Gloria sat back in her chair with her coffee and tucked one foot up under her leg. “Plenty of room. Not a lot of privacy, I’m afraid, but clean sheets and warm blankets.”
“A king’s accommodation, if you ask me,” Right Ned said. “Thank you. I’m turning in. Are we taking shifts to watch Abraham?”
“I’ll do it,” I said.
“There’s no need.” Quinten rubbed at the bridge of his nose, as if the food had reminded him of how tired he was. “He won’t wake. He won’t move until morning at least. And by then we’ll need to travel. No matter his condition. If he can’t travel, we need to find him a place to recover.”
He paused to give me a look. I didn’t know if he meant here with Gloria or somewhere else in the city, but I had only one answer for him.
“No. We aren’t leaving him behind. Anywhere. If Gloria is found with him, she’ll be thrown in jail. I don’t want that; you don’t want that; and I’m sure she doesn’t want that.”
“I understand the risks,” she said.
“No,” I said. “I won’t risk you, nor will I risk losing House Brown’s valuable medical resource you have here. This is too important for too many people.”
Quinten narrowed his eyes.
Yeah, well, he wasn’t the only person who could use logic to his advantage. And I was not wrong on this matter.
“All right,” he said. “We’ll find a way to keep Abraham with us if we can.” He lifted one finger from around his cup to stop me from saying anything. “And we’ll make every effort to see that he heals enough to travel so we can keep him safe.”