Darwin's Children Part 48

She swung her legs out over the side of the bed and stood, then paused, arms held out as if to keep her balance. She stared down at the fake wooden floor. "He used nose plugs and scrubbed me with soap, and then he covered me with cheap perfume. I couldn't make him stop. He said he wanted to learn whether he would ever have grandchildren. But he wasn't even my real father. A baby. Oh, my G.o.d."

The girl's face wrinkled up in an expression so complex d.i.c.ken could have studied it for hours and not understood. He knew how a chimpanzee must feel, watching humans emote.

"I'm sorry," d.i.c.ken said.

"Have you met anyone else like me who was pregnant?" the girl asked, holding, compelling his gaze through the plastic.

"No," d.i.c.ken said.

"I'm the first?"

"You're the first in my experience."

"Yeah." She got a panicky look and walked stiffly into the bathroom. d.i.c.ken could hear her trying to throw up. He went into the living room. The smell of his sorrow and loathing filled the helmet and there was no way to wipe his eyes or his nose.

When the girl came out, she stopped in the doorway, then sidled through, as if afraid to touch the frame. She held her arms out to her side like wings. Her cheeks were a steady golden brown and the yellow flint-sparks in her eyes seemed even larger and brighter. More than ever, she looked like a cat. She glared at him quizzically. She could see his puffy eyes and wet cheeks through the plastic. "What do you care?" she asked.

d.i.c.ken shook his head inside the helmet. "Hard to explain," he said. "I was there at the beginning."

"What does that mean?"

"I'm not sure there's time," he said. "We need to find out why you're sick."

"Explain it to me, and then you can look at me," the girl said.

d.i.c.ken wondered how they would react outside if he spent a couple of hours in the trailer. If Jurie should happen to come back . . .

None of that mattered. He had to do something for the girl. She deserved so much more than this.

He pulled up the covering seal and unzipped his helmet, then removed it. It certainly wasn't the worst risk he had ever taken. "I was one of the first to know," he began.

The girl lifted her nose and sniffed. The way her upper lip formed a V was so strangely beautiful that d.i.c.ken had to smile.

"Better?" he asked.

"You're not afraid, you're angry," the girl said. "You're angry for for me." me."

He nodded.

"n.o.body's ever been angry for me. It smells kind of sweet. Sit in the living room. Stay a few feet away, in case I'm dangerous."

They walked into the living room. d.i.c.ken sat on a dinette chair and she stood by the couch, arms folded, as if ready to run. "Tell me," she said.

"Can I examine you while I talk? You can keep your clothes on, and I won't stick you with anything. I just need to look and touch."

The girl nodded.

Rumors and half-truths were all she had ever heard. She remained standing for the first few minutes, while d.i.c.ken pressed his fingers gently under her jaw, into her armpits, and looked between her fingers and toes.

After a while, she sat on the vinyl couch, listening closely and watching him with those incredible flint-spark eyes.

36.

ARIZONA.

The three cars split off at a crossroads going through a small desert town. Stella looked through the rear window at the diminishing dot of the car that contained Celia and LaShawna and two of the boys. Then she turned to look at Will, who seemed to have fallen asleep.

JoBeth Hayden had talked about her daughter for the first half hour or so, about how she had been glad Bonnie was not on the bus, being taken to Sandia, yet how disappointing it was not to see her and have her be free.

After a while, Stella had felt her muscles tighten from the aftereffects of the crash, and she had tuned out Jobeth, focusing instead on the pile of crumpled pages that Will had arranged on the seat between them.

Will opened his eyes and leaned forward. "Mrs. Hayden," he said, and ran his tongue over dry lips, avoiding Stella's curious stare.

"Yes. Your name is William, isn't it?"

"Will. I'd like to put these up by you." He dropped some crumpled pages in the middle of the front bench seat.

"That's trash," Jobeth Hayden said disapprovingly.

"I can't keep it back here," Will said.

"I don't see why not."

Stella could not figure out what Will was up to. She rubbed her nose. The front bench seat was in direct sunlight. Will was fever-scenting. She could smell him now, subtle but direct, like cocoa powder and b.u.t.ter. She had never smelled anything exactly like it.

"Can I?" Will asked.

Jobeth Hayden shook her head slowly. Stella saw her eyes in the rearview mirror; she looked confused. "All right," she said.

Stella picked up a crumpled page and smelled it. She drew back, rejecting the urge to frith, and stared at Will resentfully. The paperback was a reservoir. Will had been rubbing the pages behind his ears, storing up scent. She poked him with her finger and flashed a query with her cheeks. He took the paper from her hands.

"We don't want to go to this ranch," Will said to Mrs. Hayden.

"That's where we're going. There's a doctor there. It's a safe place, and they're expecting you."

"I know a better place," Will said. "Could you drive us to California?"

"That's silly," Jobeth Hayden said.

"I've been trying to get there for more than a year now."

"We're going to the ranch, and that's that."

Will dropped another wadded-up page onto the pool of sun on the front seat. Stella could smell Will's particular form of persuasion very clearly now, and however much she fought against it, what he said was beginning to seem reasonable.

Mrs. Hayden continued to drive. Stella wondered if too much persuasion would confuse her and make her drive off the road.

Will cradled his head in his arms. "We're fine. I don't need a doctor./ She's fine, she can still drive."

"We're going to see a doctor in a small town in Arizona, and then we're going straight to the ranch," Mrs. Hayden said.

"It's right across the state line. You have to drive through Nevada, though. Can I see the map?"

Mrs. Hayden was frowning deeply now, and she started to toss back the pieces of crumpled paper. "I don't think that's a good idea," she said. "What are you doing?"

"I just want to see the map," Will said.

"Well, I suppose that's okay, but no more of this trash, please. I thought you children behaved better."

Stella touched Will's arm. "Stop it," she whispered, leaning forward so only he would hear.

Will ignored Stella and tossed the paper again onto the front seat, in the pool of sunshine that warmed it and made it release its scent.

"This is really intolerable," Mrs. Hayden said, but her head straightened and she did not sound angry. She reached over, opened up the glove box, and handed Will an Auto Club map of Arizona and New Mexico. "I don't use them often," she said. "They're pretty old."

Will opened the map and spread it across their knees. His finger followed highways going north and west. Stella leaned into the corner where the seat met the door and folded her arms.

"You'll have to sit up straight, sweetie," Mrs. Hayden told her. "The car has side airbags. It's not safe to slump over."

Stella sat up. Will looked at her. Her back was really hurting now. Calmly, he reached over and touched her hands, her legs, then her back.

"What are you doing back there?" Mrs. Hayden asked, dimly concerned.

Will did not answer, and she did not press the question. His fingers marched lightly up Stella's spine, and she rolled over to let him examine her back.

"You'll be okay," Will said.

"How do you know?" Stella asked.

"You'd smell different if you were bleeding inside, or if something was broken. You're just suffering from a little whiplash, and I don't think there's any nerve damage. I smelled a boy with a broken back once, and he had a sad, awful smell. You smell good."

"I don't like you telling us what to do," Stella said.

"I'll stop once she takes us to California," Will said. He did not seem very confident, and he did not smell sure of himself. This was one nervous young man.

"It's a beautiful day/ I learned a lot in North Carolina," Will doubled. "I'm glad you're here/ That was before they burned our camp."

Stella had never met anyone more adept at persuasion. She wondered whether his talent was natural, or whether he had been taught somewhere. She also wondered whether they would be in any danger. But Stella was not willing, not yet anyway, to tell Mrs. Hayden her suspicions. She apparently had suspicions of her own. "I'd like to roll down the windows," Mrs. Hayden said. "It's getting stuffy in here."

"It's fine, really," Will said. At the same time, he undered to Stella, "/I need your help. Don't you want to see what we can do?"

Stella shook her head, thinking of Mitch and Kaye, thinking irrationally of the house in Virginia, the last place she had really felt safe, though that had been an illusion.

"Didn't you ever want to run away?" Will asked in a near whisper.

"It really is is stuffy," Mrs. Hayden said. Will was running out of pages. stuffy," Mrs. Hayden said. Will was running out of pages.

"Help me," Will pleaded softly, earnestly.

"What is this place?" Stella asked.

"I think it's in the woods," Will said. "It's hidden, far from the towns. They have animals and grow their own food./ They raise marijuana and sell it to make money to buy stuff."

Marijuana was legal now in most states, but still that sounded dangerous. Stella suddenly felt very cautious. Will looked and smelled scary, with his jumbled hair and cocoa-powder richness, his face that seemed capable of so many expressions. He's been with others and they've taught him so much. What could they teach me-and what could I add? He's been with others and they've taught him so much. What could they teach me-and what could I add?

"Would I be able to call my parents?"

"They're not like us/ They'd take you back," Will replied. "We need to be with our own people/ You'll grow and learn who you really are."

Stella felt her stomach knot with confusion and indecision. It was what she had been thinking about in the school. Forming demes was impossible with humans around; they always found ways to interfere. For all she knew, demes were just what children tried on for practice. Soon they would be adults, and what would they do then?

How would they ever find out if humans kept clinging to them?

"It's time to grow up," Will said.

"Why, you're so young," Mrs. Hayden said dreamily. She was driving straight and steadily, but her voice sounded wrong, and Stella knew they had to do something in concert soon or Mrs. Hayden could go one way or the other.

"I'm only fifteen," Stella said. Actually, she had not yet had her fifteenth birthday, but she always added in the time her mother had been pregnant with the first-stage embryo.

"There's supposed to be a man there in his sixties, one of us," Will said.

"That's impossible," Stella said.

"That's what they say. He's from the south, from Georgia. Or maybe Russia. They weren't sure which."

"Do you know where this place is?"

Will tapped his head. "They showed us a map before the camp was burned."

"Is it real?"

Will could not answer this. "I think so./ I want it to be real."

Stella closed her eyes. She could feel the warmth behind her eyelids, the sun pa.s.sing over her face, the suspended redness, and below that the rising up of all her minds, all the parts of her body that yearned. To be alone with her own kind, making her own way, learning all she needed to learn to survive among people who hated her . . .

That would be an incredible adventure. That would be worth so much danger.

"It's all you've wanted, I know it," Will said.

"How do I know you're not just persuading persuading me?" Her cheeks added unconscious quotes to the emphasis on that word, which sounded so wrong, so lacking in nuance, so human. me?" Her cheeks added unconscious quotes to the emphasis on that word, which sounded so wrong, so lacking in nuance, so human.

"Look inside," Will said.