Origin

by Jessica Khoury

“Why? I thought there was no evil in Little Cam,” he challenges.

  “There’s not! But you aren’t supposed to be here! Little Cam is a secret place, and I’m the most secret part of it. If they found out you knew too much about me, they might…”

  “Yes?”

  “I don’t know, Eio, and I don’t want to find out.” He’s making me angry. Why won’t he go? Why does he insist on trying to make me doubt the people who raised—and created—me? And why is it working? “Go, Eio! Go now!”

  Without a word, he turns and vanishes into the jungle. Once he’s gone, I feel a fleeting tug at my heart, as if it wants me to follow him.

  I make my way through the dense foliage until I see the glitter of the fence and the buildings beyond. I’m near the hole, and since I can’t hear any shouts or see anyone scouting the perimeter, I think perhaps I might have a chance of sneaking back in after all.

  But when I reach my escape hole, I stop dead and stare in horror, then grab Alai before he can run ahead.

  The area is thick with men and women, scientists and workers and uniformed guards. They’ve discovered the hole, that much is obvious. Do they suspect I found it first?

  I slip into the trees, hoping some of Eio’s ability to melt into invisibility has rubbed off on me. Hardly daring to breathe, I creep closer to investigate, keeping a tight hold on the jaguar’s collar.

  Uncle Paolo and Uncle Antonio are both on the scene. Neither looks happy. Their faces are red, and they bristle like the Grouch and Alai when they are facing off in the menagerie. Are they angry at each other or at me? I suspect the latter.

  The fallen ceiba tree has been cut up and removed, and several men are in the process of filling in the hole and straightening the fence. They must have turned off the electricity in this section, because they’re handling the chain link with bare hands.

  When I shift positions, I see more of what’s going on. My parents are there, and they look pale and quiet from where they stand on the other side of the fence. Behind them, I see my glass bedroom, empty and, I notice for the first time, extremely open and vulnerable. I can see everything within. The corner where the chair sits, covering the map beneath the carpet, looks undisturbed, which fills me with relief. I’m in plenty of trouble without having to worry about explaining that too.

  I have to get closer to find out what they’re saying about me. Everyone is probably thinking of the Accident, wondering if it’s happened all over again. I start to wish I’d never left last night, that I’d listened to my own sense and stayed put inside Little Cam. But then I think of Eio and the children of Ai’oa, and my spirit rises up stubbornly and crosses its arms. I’d do it again.

  From the looks of things, though, I might not have that option. I run through my short list of possible next moves.

  Walk out now and face them all. Confess everything, even the map, and swear I’ll never, ever do it again.

  Walk out now and face them all. Confess everything and swear I will do it again, whether they like it or not.

  Run away. Go native, perhaps, and this time for good.

  I don’t like any of the options. But there seem to be no more alternatives to choose from. So instead, I opt for stalling. Wait and watch. Something has to present itself.

  By staying low to the ground and moving at the speed of a particularly lethargic three-toed sloth, I manage to get within hearing range of the group by the fence without drawing any attention.

  “We don’t know for sure she went through,” Uncle Antonio is saying.

  “We have to plan for every possibility. She could be miles from here by now, Antonio. Miles!” Uncle Paolo runs his hands through his hair, looking more agitated than I’ve ever seen him. “I can’t lose her! She means everything to this place! Without her, Little Cam, the research, all of it means nothing! Think of what Strauss will say! Oh god, what will Strauss say?”

  Strauss? I’ve never heard of anyone called that, not in Little Cam.

  “Calm down, Paolo,” Uncle Antonio replies. “She’s probably in the compound somewhere. We can’t jump to conclusions.”

  “Conclusions! We searched inside the fence for hours! She sneaked out. It’s the only explanation, Antonio. I knew we should never have taken down the cameras in her room. Clarence! What is taking so long? Get a damn bulldozer if you have to, just get that hole filled in!” Uncle Paolo paces back and forth, right and left, never stopping for a moment. “I should have known this would happen. I’ve made too many concessions. That party was a fool of an idea! She needs a stricter schedule, more supervision.…Maybe we should reinstall the cameras. Never mind the fuss she makes, she’s spoiled enough.…”

  Uncle Antonio is stone-faced as he replies, “She’s not a rat, Paolo.”

  This time Uncle Paolo does stop pacing, and he and Uncle Antonio stare at each other with venom I’d never even suspected lay between them. I’ve never known the two to be chummy or anything, but now I realize that there may be much more animosity between them than they normally show. There must be. The looks they give each other now seem much too heavy to be the result of just my disappearance.

  Suddenly I’m struck with an idea. All these people outside the fence…they surely didn’t get there by crawling through the hole beneath it. Which means they must have opened the gate. Which means it might still be open.

  Hardly daring to breathe, I begin moving silently around the perimeter of Little Cam. If I can get to the gate, and it’s open, then I can sneak inside and come up with some kind of story…maybe I fell asleep beside the pool or got lost in a biology textbook in some dark corner. My thoughts run down three different tracks at the same time, pushing my mind into overdrive.

  Maybe that’s why I don’t notice Harriet Fields until I’ve walked right into her.

  FOURTEEN

  “Pia!” She looks as startled as I am, and doubly so when she sees Alai.

  I cringe and consider simply running away, but I’m well and truly spotted. I’m only a short dash from the front gate, which is indeed open, as I’d hoped, but I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t bother checking behind every tree I passed. Dr. Klutz was reclining against one of them, smoking leisurely and apparently enjoying the spectacle my disappearance has created.

  “Hello, Dr. Fields,” I mumble, not knowing what to expect from her. Likely she’ll run yelling for Uncle Paolo like a startled baby monkey for its mother.

  “You’ve caused quite the ruckus,” she says, relaxing again and tapping her cigarette thoughtfully to her lower lip. “Where have you been?”

  I don’t reply. The answer should be pretty obvious. I’ve been out, and that is strictly against the rules. I have no pay to be docked; will they withhold my supper instead? Or something worse?

  “Sneaking out, my, my,” murmurs Dr. Klutz. “Been a bad girl, Pia perfect.”

  “Are you going to tell?” I ask, hoping against hope.

  She studies me for a long moment and sucks at her cigarette. I steal a glimpse at the gate. There is one guard, but he can’t see us through the foliage. Unless, of course, Dr. Klutz were to start shouting. Which is entirely too possible.

  “Tell you what,” she says finally, flicking ash to the ground. “I’ve heard you calling everyone else around here aunt and uncle. Well, I’m as much in this thing as any of you now. Contract, remember? So. You start calling me Aunt Harriet, and I just might help you.”

  “Just might?” I say doubtfully, though I want to weep in relief.

  “Say it.” A smile sneaks onto her face.

  I recall her dangerous birthday present and the trouble I could cause her if someone were to find it, and I give in. “Fine. Aunt Harriet. There. Will you help me now?”

  She grins. “Once more. Come on. And not so grudging, girl. I’ve never done you any wrong.”

  Except given me a map that could get me in the worst trouble of my life. Well, present predicament excepted, of course. “Please help me get inside the gate, Aunt Harriet, and I swear I’l
l even think of you as Aunt Harriet instead of…”

  “Of what?” She tips her head curiously. “Just what do you think of me as?”

  “Uh…Dr. Fields, of course.”

  The look she gives me tells me plainly that this answer is unconvincing, but I don’t offer to amend it. She seems satisfied with my compliance, however, and nods crisply. “Well, then. Inside the gate we go! Wait here a tick.”

  She tosses her cigarette aside and flounces off through the bushes. Disgusted, I crush the still-burning little cylinder with my shoe, then watch to see what she will do. For all I know, she’s telling the guard where I am right now. But no. She’s pointing off in the general direction of Uncle Paolo and his crew, and the guard nods and shrugs and starts marching off, supposedly acting on orders Uncle Paolo never gave. Once he is out of sight, Aunt Harriet waves at me, and I cautiously emerge from the trees.

  “You did it.”

  “Of course I did,” she returns, looking a bit indignant. “I went to a damn all-girls private school. I had to learn every trick in the book when it comes to sneaking out, or else die of social deprivation.”

  Somehow, I can see her doing just that. “Well, thanks, anyway.”

  “You’re welcome. Now are you going to scoot inside or will I have to kill the next person that comes along and sees you on the wrong side of the fence?”

  “Kill them?” My mouth drops open. “But—”

  “Not literally, Pia!” She throws her hands up in exasperation.

  I go through the gate, hardly believing my good luck. After seeing everyone gathered around my secret exit and being so sure I wouldn’t be able to sneak back in, I have no idea what to do now. They won’t accept a simple explanation for my absence. To say that I was reading in the research library or working out in the gym will never satisfy Uncle Paolo, and having known me all my life, he’d see right through me in a heartbeat. And besides, I’m a terrible liar thanks to the fact that I never do lie. Until now, I’ve never had anything to lie about.

  But there is someone apparently quite skilled at lying.…Though I hate having to go to her for yet another favor. Still, she’s all I’ve got.

  “Um, Aunt Harriet?”

  “Yes?” She has a look in her eyes like she already knows what I’m going to ask, and it gives her no end of amusement.

  Oh, come on, Pia. Swallow your pride and get it over with. “What, uh, should I say when they come in and find me?”

  “Hmm. You need a story, and a good one. Several hours and no word or sign, and, let’s face it, Little Cam isn’t that big. They searched everywhere for you.” She nibbles her lip and stares at me thoughtfully. “All right. I’ve got it. Come with me.”

  She takes off at a jog across the circular drive, and I follow and hope she knows what she’s doing. I’ve no idea if I can trust her, but under the circumstances, it seems there’s no choice. Aunt Harriet knows my secret, so for now, I’m at her mercy.

  Once we’re out of sight of the fence and anyone who might be patrolling it, she slows and walks beside me. “In situations like this, the best lie is the one that incites sympathy.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, if you were to say you fell asleep in a corner somewhere or were hiding on purpose, that would only make them angrier—and believe me, they’re plenty angry already.”

  I nod, remembering the conversation I overheard between Uncle Paolo and Uncle Antonio.

  “So,” Aunt Harriet continues, “it’s much better to think up a situation that, when discovered, will make them feel guilty. For example, a piano fell on top of you, and you couldn’t move.”

  “What!” I stop and stare at her in horror.

  “Oh, good grief, Pia, I was only kidding! But you get the idea?”

  “I guess,” I say, moving again, albeit with much more distance between us, just in case she does decide to drop a piano on me.

  “The trick is to get them to feel sorry for you. Sympathy is the best replacement for anger. So,” she stops and waves a hand at the building we’ve stopped at. B Labs, the smaller of the two main research buildings in Little Cam, situated by the northeastern line of the fence. “In we go.”

  “Why? What’s the plan?”

  She doesn’t answer, but leads me through the white, polished hallways without once looking back. Everyone must be out looking for me; the place is eerily quiet. Our footsteps strike off the floor to echo down the walls, and the tiles beneath my feet are so pristinely clean that when I look down it’s as if I’m looking in a mirror. The white doors we pass are all simply marked LAB 114, LAB 115, LAB 116, and they’re punctuated with smaller, windowless supply and janitorial closets. Above us, the florescent lights burn as steadily and relentlessly as the sun. Uncle Paolo hates nothing so much as a faulty lightbulb, and whenever one shows the first sign of giving out, he has Clarence change it.

  Finally she stops and puts her hands on her hips, staring around with a perplexed look. “Where’s that refrigerator room…”

  “Lab 112?” I say. “It’s that way—”

  “What’s in here?” she interrupts, heading for a door at the end of the hallway.

  “Don’t go in there,” I say.

  “Why?” Her hand hovers over the doorknob.

  “That’s the old wing. It burned years ago. No one uses it; it’s just a husk.”

  “Really?” She studies the door curiously. “Strange. There’s no fire damage to the outside of the building.”

  I shrug. “No one’s allowed in there. It’s dangerous.”

  She tries the knob, but it doesn’t turn. “Locked.”

  “Aunt Harriet—”

  Before I can stop her, she’s slipped her cardkey through the door and the frame, and the door swings open. I almost warn her again not to go in, but my curiosity overwhelms me. I follow her slowly.

  The hall beyond is dark and dusty and lined with doors that have little windows in them. Aunt Harriet tries the first one; it opens easily. The room is small and dim, and we can just make out a bench against the far wall. There is no evidence of fire anywhere, but the room looks old and certainly abandoned. It’s too small to be a lab or a dorm room and too large to be a supply closet. The wood floor has at least an inch of dust coating it.

  Aunt Harriet points wordlessly at the bench. Iron chains, rusty with age, hang over its sides like old bones. Long grooves run down the length of the wood, like marks left by fingernails.

  A chill runs down my spine as if it is being raked by those same nails. This room is like none I know in Little Cam. It is too cold and dark and lonely, and there are secrets here I don’t want to learn.

  “Let’s keep looking.” Aunt Harriet goes back to the hallway, and reluctantly I follow. The next room is nearly identical to the first. The one after that has no bench, but it does have more scratches—these ones on the wall, starting at head height and streaking downward. The next room has dark stains on the wood floor and a faint metallic scent in the air.

  Every hair on my head seems to be standing on end by now, and when Aunt Harriet starts for the next door, I shake my head. “No more.”

  Aunt Harriet simply nods. We tiptoe back into the lit hall as if afraid of waking some sleeping monster.

  Back in the light, with the door shut securely against the shadows, we stand and stare at each other.

  After a minute, I whisper, “I didn’t like how it felt. It made me feel…cold.”

  She nods, her face white. “I’ve seen rooms like those before.”

  “Where?”

  She shakes her head and seems unwilling to speak more of it. “Pia, do you have any idea what that wing was used for?”

  “No. They said it was labs and storage, all lost in the…” The fire that never was. “Why would they lie?” I whisper.

  Aunt Harriet doesn’t reply, just watches me with a strange, distant gaze. “We need to hide you.”

  “Oh, yeah.” I try to shake off the dark mood that clamped onto me, leechlike,
when we entered the hall on the other side of the door. We find Lab 112 and the row of walk-in refrigerators inside—refrigerators that cannot be opened from within. I see Aunt Harriet’s plan immediately. It’s a good one, but it won’t be any fun for me.

  With a sigh, I slip into one of them, wishing I could think of a better idea. Aunt Harriet pauses before closing the door.

  “Pia…”

  “Yes?”

  “You know, I’ve been given a small lab near the front gate to do my research in.”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “Well,” she lifts her eyebrows meaningfully. “I could ask for a certain someone to join me once in a while…for educational purposes, of course. Several hours a day, when everyone thinks you’re safe and sound with me…”

  I meet her gaze and understand what she’s offering. She can’t possibly know what I was up to in the jungle, but she’s extending a way for me to go back to it, if I want. But I’m not sure what I want right now. So I just give a little, noncommittal nod. She returns the nod and says nothing more on it. “I’ll wait an hour or so, then casually ask if anyone thought to check in here. You’d better be prepared with an explanation for getting yourself in such a stupid situation by then, okay?”

  I nod.

  “Aunt Harriet,” I say “Why are you helping me like this?”

  She pauses and starts to say something, then covers it in a grim smile. “See you in an hour, Pia.”

  And she shuts the door.

  There’s a small window in the door, but it’s too frosty to reveal much more than the opening and closing of the lab door as Aunt Harriet leaves. Resigned now to my hour of torture, I turn and survey the little room.

  There are two sets of metal shelves on either side of me, filled with plastic containers labeled with complex codes of letters and numbers and even colorful stickers. I chose this refrigerator for a reason, and that reason sits on the second shelf about three feet down from my left arm. It’s a container of samples of Anopholese darlingi—mosquitoes—which I’ve been using in my studies of malaria with Uncle Haruto and my father. One of our sessions was scheduled for today; I’ll say I wanted to get an early start and accidentally shut the door behind me.