Origin

by Jessica Khoury

  I give him a flat, unamused stare. “Yes.”

  “Okay,” he says amiably. Then he reaches behind me and picks up a circular leaf—Tropaeolaceae tropaeolum, my mind supplies—which he holds lengthwise at eye level, so that it looks like a thin line in the air.

  “Line or circle?”

  “Okay, smart guy.” I roll my eyes. “I get it.”

  “Line or circle?” he insists.

  “It’s both. Ha ha.” I grab the leaf and hold it upright, my eyes tracing its round outline.

  “It’s something Papi showed me once,” Eio says. “He said that seeing and understanding are two different things. Our eyes show us one side of an object, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t five other sides we can’t see. So why trust your eyes? Why live your whole life thinking that just because you can’t see every side to something, those other sides don’t exist?”

  “If you can’t trust your eyes then what can you trust?”

  He smiles and closes his hand around mine, lifting one finger to tap the leaf. “You trust someone who can see the other sides.”

  “Like you?” I mean the question in disbelief, but it comes out, to my surprise, completely sincere.

  “Well…why not?” His smile is wide and cocky, as if he’s inviting me to argue with him. “Are you really so surprised we natives aren’t as ignorant as your scientists say? Do you think you’re the only one allowed to be smart?”

  I want to say something sharp and clever in response, but my lips stay shut, and I stare at him with slightly bewildered fascination. Still smiling, he yawns and halfheartedly stretches.

  “There’s a papaya tree over that way. I’ll go get us some, and then I’ll teach you more smart things.” He laughs when I roll my eyes, then stands and heads into the jungle.

  “Yeah?” I call after him. “You think you’re a proper genius, don’t you?”

  He turns, gives a short, mocking bow, then disappears into the jungle, laughing.

  Shaking my head at his self-satisfaction, I kick off my shoes, roll up my pants, and wade in after Ami.

  “What? Too scared to get wet?” She splashes me, and I hold my hands up in defense and laugh.

  I notice a dark ripple in the water behind her and point. “What’s that?”

  “I don’t know.” Ami wades into the water to get a closer look.

  Then I see it. “Ami, no! Get back!”

  “What—”

  She disappears under the water. In mere seconds a snake as thick as my thigh is coiled four times around her little body, and before my horrified eyes, it begins to tighten.

  NINETEEN

  “Ami!” I scream. “I’m coming!”

  I plunge into the water. The anaconda is by far the largest I’ve ever seen. There’s no way to measure exactly, but it is definitely over fifteen feet.

  “Ami! Hang on!” I can’t see its head, so I grab at its body and pull. It responds by squeezing further. Ami gasps as her face reddens.

  “No! You just breathe, Ami! Just keep breathing, damn it!” I pick up rocks and smash them across the snake, and its head rises above Ami’s and hisses at me. Its tongue is long and black and forked.

  “Get off of her! Let go!” I throw a rock at its head, and it strikes true. But instead of dying, the snake moves as fast as the liquid mercury with which Uncle Sergei likes to experiment. It slides off Ami’s body, and color returns to her face. I grab her and hold her close.

  “It’s all right, it’s all right.”

  “Pia!”

  I feel something tighten around my leg, and then I’m underwater. It holds me there for one…two…three minutes. Most people would have drowned by now, but I feel myself enter a strange stasis in which air is no longer necessary. Still, when I thrust upward, plunging my face back into the air, I gulp down one greedy breath before the anaconda pulls me under again. It moves around me like some demonic rope, its skin slick and smooth and cold. It wraps around my legs first, then my waist and chest. On its last pass the snake slides across my neck, slowly this time, almost lovingly, as if trying to soothe me to my death. Don’t you know I can’t die, snake?

  But you can be swallowed, a sibilant voice responds, and though I know it’s my own, my imagination credits it to the snake. Swallowed into the wet, dark belly.…

  I plant my feet on the streambed and use all my strength to thrust myself upward, lifting my head from the water. I suck down air and smell the rotting musk of the snake, and I gag.

  Ami is screaming on the bank, and the rocks she throws all go wide. The serpent’s head hovers inches from my face, its yellow slitted eyes fixed on mine, its mouth almost smiling.

  Suddenly the snake tenses and tightens, and I feel the air squeezed from my lungs. I give a little half gasp, half squeak. I want to tell Ami to run, get help, something besides throwing rocks uselessly, but I can’t speak. I don’t have the breath. I hate how useless my immortality is at this moment. I would trade it in a heartbeat for the strength to throw this monster off.

  The snake draws itself tighter and tighter around me. I’m on my knees in the water, legs scraped and scratched by stones.

  Immortality, Pia, aren’t you lucky? An eternity in the belly of a snake.

  Black patches fill my vision, blocking out Ami. Where the black is not, colors dance vividly, a kaleidoscope sucking me under, luring me into unconsciousness.

  I hear a wild yell, water splashing all around, and Ami shrieking. The snake tightens, tightens…then releases. Its thick coils fall away like some horrific, scaly garment dropping to the floor. I lunge forward and fall onto the bank. Ami has my hands; she’s pulling me out of the water.

  I collapse, gasping and coughing and crying, on the mossy bank. I pound my fist on the ground, trying to force air back into my body. When I turn to look back, I see Eio embroiled in battle with the serpent. His eyes are wild, his teeth are bared, and he has an arrow in one hand that he’s trying to stab into the snake’s head.

  “Kill it, Eio! Kill it!” yells Ami.

  He’s certainly trying his best. When the snake wraps a coil around his chest, he slips a hand under it and struggles to push it off. Muscles strain beneath his tanned skin, his face reddens with effort, but he succeeds in thrusting it off himself. The fight lasts long minutes, and the entire time my heart is in my mouth. Please, please, please…I wish I knew of a god to pray to. Instead, I can only send the word out like a distress call over the radio. Please, please.…

  With a deep, wordless bellow, Eio heaves the snake away from his body. It flips wildly in the air, thrashing and hissing, and lands with a splash in the water. I think it’s over, because Eio’s free, and we can run now, but he goes after it.

  “No!” I croak.

  But Eio’s not listening; he’s in a battle rage. He reaches for the small bow slung across his back, but it broke in the snake’s embrace. So he lunges after it with his arrow pointed like a dagger. One lightning-quick thrust, and he’s skewered the snake’s head right through the eyes.

  The body lashes violently for some time, and Eio, exhausted, collapses beside me on the bank. He shuts his eyes and gasps for air.

  “Are you okay?” I ask hoarsely.

  He doesn’t answer, just keeps breathing. But after a moment, he nods once. I take off my tank top, knowing the sight of me in my sports bra won’t offend any Ai’oans—many of the women run around topless—and soak it in the river. Then I bathe his face and chest with it, hoping to cool the rush of blood that I can see pulsing in his neck and temples.

  After a while, he opens his eyes. They are red-rimmed and tired, but they’re open and looking at me, and that’s all I care about.

  “You saved me,” I whisper. “You killed it.”

  We both look at the snake; it’s fallen still at last. Greenish coils loop out of the water. Ami wades in and pokes it with a stick, shrieking when one loop falls over, but the snake is well and truly dead. Its head lies on the opposite bank, the arrow sticking straight out of its sku
ll.

  Eio grins at me, the effect of which is a little frightening given that he’s covered with mud and leaves and he’s just killed a giant snake.

  “Dinner,” he says.

  No matter how they try, the Ai’oans cannot convince me to try anaconda kebab. There is plenty of it, that’s for sure. They chop the snake into sections and then skewer and roast them slowly over open fires. I can’t watch. There’s something about eating a creature that almost ate me that ruins my appetite.

  When the afternoon begins to wane, I head back to the spot where the guards always park the Jeep. We’ll have to figure out a way to explain why I look so rough. My breathing has returned to normal, so I know there’s no internal damage, but there’s a bruise around my neck and stomach, my hair is a wreck, and my clothes are torn and muddy.

  Eio walks me back. He was also silent during the feast, though the villagers were raining praises down on him. Apparently no snake that large has ever been killed by an Ai’oan, at least not in recent history. Eio is the reigning hero now.

  “It could have killed you,” I say as we make our way up a steep incline, using vines and bushes to pull ourselves up.

  He shrugs and extends a hand downward. I grab it, and he pulls me up beside him. “I had to get it off you. You were almost out.”

  “You might have died for me.”

  “Maybe,” he replies, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him before. “But Kapukiri says the noblest life is the one laid down for another.”

  I think about that for a while; it’s a strange way to look at death. Even stranger is the boy who would risk his life for mine. If I could die, would I do the same for him? I know what everyone in Little Cam would say: “Never, Pia. You are far too important to throw your life away for anyone.” They would remind me that I’m the only immortal and that humanity’s hope rests with me. And I would believe them because I always have.

  But as I duck under a branch Eio holds up for me, I think of my last visit to Ai’oa and how alive I felt every time our eyes met. How my blood raced beneath his touch. And when I was in danger, he didn’t hesitate to risk everything to save me.

  Would I do the same for him? The question haunts me because I have no answer. I don’t know. To say no would be to betray Eio and the feelings I have for him, but to say yes would be to betray everyone in Little Cam…and maybe even my own dream. Would I risk losing eternity with my immortals just to save this one mortal boy?

  It’ll never come to that, I tell myself. Surely it won’t come to that.

  I notice that Eio put on a black T-shirt sometime during the feast. It says CHICAGO on it in swooping letters. “What’s that mean?” I ask, pointing.

  “I don’t know, but I think it’s a place in the United States of America. Papi was here last night, and he gave it to me. He said sometimes shirts like this get mixed in with the boxes that big man, Timothy, brings back to Little Cam, and they can’t wear them there because they’re against the rules.”

  In case I see them, I think, knowing it must be the reason why. “Your Papi was here last night?”

  “He comes once a week or so.”

  “You’ve never told me who he is.” Suddenly I have a terrifying thought. “Eio, you haven’t told him about me, have you?” He could be anyone in Little Cam. Maybe he already knows my secret. If so, why hasn’t he told anyone? Or he could be Uncle Paolo himself!

  “Of course not,” he answers, and my heart resumes beating. “I keep your secret, and I keep Papi’s. I don’t tell him about you, and I won’t tell you about him.” He shrugs apologetically. “It’s only fair.”

  “I guess so,” I sigh, just happy for now that my secret is still safe. “But I’ll figure it out sooner or later.”

  “Maybe,” he agrees.

  We climb a short roll of land that’s draped in ferns. The road is just on the other side, where the Jeep should be waiting.

  Eio stops on top of the hill. “You’re sure about this plan?”

  “No problem. It was a little dusty, but it got me out, didn’t it?” I pause beside him. “I guess…I’ll see you next time?”

  He starts to speak, then stops, as if he can’t figure out what to say. Then he grabs my hand. “You don’t have to go back,” he whispers.

  “Eio—”

  “Pia.” His hand runs up my arm to my elbow, leaving goose bumps in its wake. “You shouldn’t have to sneak in and out like this, hiding under their cars.” He shakes his head, angry crinkles at the corners of his eyes. “You live in fear of these people. Why won’t you admit it? It’s a cage, Pia. You must see that. You must feel it every time you look over your shoulder. Look, you’re doing it now!”

  I am looking over my shoulder, but it’s not because of what he’s saying. It’s because the spot where my ride home should be—is empty.

  The sound of rumbling engines comes from the direction of the river, and I crouch in the ferns with Eio and watch as a Jeep drives past. It’s driven by the guard who was supposed to be returning from his shift, and he’s carrying two passengers. Strangers: a brunette woman and white-haired man.

  “Oh, no,” I moan. There’s no doubt in my mind as to who they are.

  Corpus.

  “They’re early,” I breathe.

  “Who is that?” Eio kneels beside me, his hand still on mine.

  “They’re from the outside. They’ve come to see me.” And when they arrive in Little Cam and ask for me, the truth will be known. Everything—and everyone—will be compromised. Me, Aunt Harriet, Eio.

  No. Not Eio. I can’t let him get caught up in this. I remember what I told him the morning I sneaked back into Little Cam: “If they found out you knew too much about me, they might…” I’m still not sure what they would do, but I know I don’t want to find out.

  More rumbling. Another Jeep is coming. This one, also driven by a guard, is carrying the Corpus representatives’ luggage.

  “I have to get on one of those Jeeps,” I whisper. “Eio, I absolutely must get back into Little Cam without anyone noticing.”

  He looks like he wants to argue with me about it, but he sighs and nods. “I will help.”

  “How—”

  But he’s already gone, ghosting through the jungle after the Jeeps. The second one drives past me just as Eio disappears from view. Then I hear a screech, a shout, and muffled yelling. Following Eio’s footsteps, I make my way toward the commotion, then press myself against a Brazil nut tree, out of sight of the Jeeps. By peering around the trunk, I can see everything.

  Eio is standing in the middle of the road, arms folded across his chest, blocking the last Jeep. The driver is standing up, yelling, and waving for him to move. This truck has no passengers, just the piled luggage in the back. The other vehicle has gone on; I can see its taillights through the trees. They probably didn’t notice what happened.

  Eio’s eyes flicker to me. He starts shouting back to the driver in Ai’oan. The driver clearly doesn’t understand a word, but I’ve picked up enough of the language to catch most of it.

  “Get in, Pia bird, before he runs me over!” he shouts. “You want to go back to that place? Now is your chance. Go, before this idiot does something stupid and I’m forced to put arrows in him!”

  Trusting him to keep the driver’s attention, I run to the Jeep and vault over its side, landing in a pile of suitcases. I curl up on the dirty mat on the floor and pull a polka-dotted valise over myself. The shouting, mostly consisting of the driver’s curses about the stupidity of natives, goes on for a minute more, then finally the Jeep jerks, sputters, and starts rumbling down the road. I poke up my head just enough to peer back. Eio stands on the side of the road, hands at his sides, watching me.

  I give him a small wave and a smile, which he doesn’t return. Instead, he pulls a passionflower from the quiver on his shoulder and holds it aloft. The message is clear. Come back soon.

  “I hope so,” I whisper. Then the road bends like Eio’s bow, and the boy with the flower is
lost to the tangled greenery of the jungle.

  TWENTY

  From under the luggage, I can hear the groan of the gates as we pass into Little Cam, followed by shouts as everyone gathers to greet the visitors. I imagine the smiling faces of the scientists masking their nervousness and the curious eyes of the maintenance workers peering from the back of the crowd. I was supposed to be there. Supposed to be in front, with Uncle Paolo, the first one Corpus saw as they entered the gates of our little compound. I feel like pressing my face into the polka dots of the valise and screaming with frustration. Why are they here two days early? No one whispered a word of this to me this morning. My only conclusion is that no one else knew either.

  Perhaps these Corpus people meant to surprise us. Catch us off guard. Like the trick questions Uncle Antonio sometimes throws at me in my studies, designed to make me stumble and backtrack, to reevaluate my hypotheses and even discard them altogether. I hate those questions; they’re the only ones that throw me offbeat and mar my otherwise spotless record.

  I realize that instead of anticipating the Corpus visitors with excitement, as I have been, maybe I ought to have had more dread. I regarded Uncle Paolo’s nervousness with amusement. Perhaps I should have taken it as a warning.

  The engines of the Jeeps shut off.

  I’m trapped. If I jump out now, everyone will see. If I stay here, they’ll find me when they unload the suitcases. That is, if Uncle Paolo hasn’t already noticed me missing. What will I say? That this was my first time sneaking out? That I didn’t go far? Ai’oans? What Ai’oans? Never heard of them. I imagine myself shifting from foot to foot as I say the words, my eyes darting anywhere but to Uncle Paolo’s face. Not for the first time, I curse my lousy lying skills.

  Just when I resign myself to my doom, I hear a loud, whooping laugh that can only be Aunt Harriet’s. It comes from nearby and gets louder; she’s walking toward my Jeep.

  “I’ll help with the luggage!” she says. “No, no, I’ve got it! I’m sturdier than I look!”

  Suddenly the valise is lifted from my face, and there she is. Her expression barely flickers at the sight of me packed under the suitcases. “I’ll distract them,” she whispers. “You better be quick.”