Catch the Lightning (12 page)

“You’re going to let them stay?” Daniel asked.

“We can’t move him,” Joshua said. “He’ll start to bleed again.”

“Do you know what aiding and abetting means?” Daniel said. “You let them stay, you’re committing a crime. If I don’t say anything that makes me an accessory.”

I concentrated on Daniel, trying to feel what made him tick. Then I got up and went to him. “Just suppose Althor is telling the truth. Think about it. You’re the one who has him to yourself, a man who could answer all those questions you have about space, maybe even make your dreams about the stars come true.”

“Don’t lay that on me,” he said.

“You won’t ever have this chance again.”

“You’re nuts if you believe him.”

“You’re afraid.”

“That’s right,” he said. “Of being thrown in jail.”

“If you don’t tell anyone he’s here, how will they know?”

“Just because I don’t tell anyone doesn’t mean they won’t find out.”

I shrugged. “Tell them we forced you to help us by holding Joshua hostage.”

Daniel glanced at him. “You know—if I said that, it could keep us from getting into trouble if someone did find out.”

“Daniel, just give us a few days,” I said.

He looked from me to Joshua. “You trust her?”

“Always,” Joshua said. “With my life.”

At first I didn’t know what he meant. Then an image came into my mind, a memory that wasn’t mine: Nug and his men, lined up with rifles. Nug shouted orders like a mock general, making them twirl their guns and aim them at me. It was eerie, because I had never experienced what I was “remembering.” Yet I could feel the cords that bound my wrists—

Joshua inhaled and the image cut off, replaced by another. This scene I recognized: I was viewing it from the couch in Mario’s front room. All of Los Halcones was there, even Manuel. They lounged against the wall or sat in chairs, some cleaning weapons.

Finally I understood. I was seeing Joshua’s memories. I even saw myself, Tina, talking to Mario with an ease that stunned Joshua, as if Mario were a beloved older brother instead of a gang leader. Protection. I wanted them to protect Joshua. And in the end, incredibly, they agreed to do it.

As the, image faded, Joshua ran his hand through his hair. Although I had known he was uncomfortable that day I took him to Mario’s, I had never realized he felt he was trusting his life to me.

Daniel was watching him closely. Joshua just shook his head.

None of us needed special brain organs to interpret that: leave it alone.

So instead Daniel turned to me. “You have two days to convince me. If you don’t, we go to the police.”

Thank you, God, I thought. “Two days,” I said. “Deal.”

…
build new tissue cells. Increase blood flow. New blood vessels
— “Wake up!”

I tried to ignore the shaking and the voice, but neither would stop. Finally I eased out of Althor’s mind. He let go as well and sank into a true sleep.

I opened my eyes. Joshua was kneeling over me on the bed, shaking my shoulders.

“Josh, don’t.” My voice vibrated with his motion.

“Thank God.” He let go of me and settled back on his heels.

Late-afternoon sunshine slanted through the window, laying rectangles of buttery light across the bed. I sat up, squinting in \ the brightness. “What time is it?”

“Almost five o’clock. I was starting to get worried. I couldn’t wake either of you up.” He motioned at his desk. “I brought you lunch hours ago.

As soon as I saw the cafeteria tray heaped with food, my mouth watered. My next thought was that if someone my size was so hungry, Althor must be starving.

I nudged Althor’s shoulder. "
¿Puedes oúrme, León Dormido?
”

No reaction.

I shook him gendy. With his wounds, I didn’t dare do it any harder. “Althor?”

Still no reaction.

“Maybe it would help if we sat him up,” Joshua said.

“It’s worth a try.” Kneeling side by side on the bed, we pulled him into a sitting position. “Althor,” I said. “Wake up.”

No response.

Joshua considered him. Then he lightiy slapped his face.

Nothing.

Joshua slapped harder. When Althor still didn’t respond, Joshua hit him agai—

Althor’s hand shot out and grabbed Joshua’s wrist. His outer eyelids snapped open and he shoved Joshua away, sending him flying off the end of the bed.

“
¡Hola!
” I grabbed Althor’s arm. “It’s okay. We just wanted you to wake up.”

His head swiveled to me. Gold shields covered his eyes. Then he slumped in my arms. He was too heavy to hold upright and we both fell down on the bed with a thump.

Joshua picked himself up off the floor. “Is he awake?”

“I’m not sure.” I got up on my knees and leaned over Althor. “Can you hear me?”

His inner lids lifted halfway, making him look like a stoned turtle.

“I think this is the best we’re going to get,” I said.

“Want to try feeding him?”

“Okay.” I had to struggle not to grab all the food for myself. Joshua smiled. “I brought enough for an army. You eat. I’ll take care of him.”

I could have kissed him. “Thanks.”

He got the tray and set it on the bed. As he sat next to Althor’s head, I took a tortilla off the tray and held it dangling between my thumb and index finger. “What is this?”

He picked up a glass of orange juice. “You know what that is.”

“A big potato chip?”

Joshua tilted the juice to Althor’s lips. “You don’t approve of our tortillas?”

“No one makes them like my mother.” Hers had been big and soft, cooked just right on her
comal
, a round metal plate she propped up over the fire on two old pots and a rock. I could still see her patting the maize dough back and forth, around and around. I had loved that sound. For the first eight years of my life, I had heard it everywhere in the early mornings, every day. Now it was gone.

I put the tortilla down and took a sandwich instead.

When Althor didn’t respond, Joshua pushed open his mouth and dribbled juice into it. At first nothing happened. Suddenly Althor sputtered, splattering drops everywhere. As he drank, his inner lids slid down, turning his face into a mask. After he finished, Joshua took away the glass, turned back to the tray—and froze, staring at the bed.

I stopped eating. ‘‘What’s wrong?”

He pointed at Althor’s waist. “Look.”

Althor had bent his arm at the elbow and lifted his hand off the bed. It did look odd, poised in the air, but I doubted that was what startled Joshua. Althor’s hand had hinged lengthwise down the center so that his middle and index fingers lay flat against his ring finger and little finger. Actually, “little” finger is wrong; the four digits were almost the same size. With his hand closed they acted like two sets of opposing thumbs, while his real thumb hung free in the air.

His hand moved to the tray and closed around an apple. He raised it to his mouth and ate it, bite by mechanical bite. When he finished, he lowered his arm until his elbow rested on the bed. Then he unhinged his hand, making a V-shape.

Joshua blinked. “What should we do?”

“Maybe he’s still hungry.” I gave him another apple.

Althor ate four apples, a bowl of squash, and some creamed corn. He wouldn’t touch the hamburger. Except for his chewing and his moving arm, he lay still the entire time, flat on his back. When he finished, he lowered his arm again and his hand relaxed open. His outer lids closed. Within seconds he was asleep. “Does he always act like that?” Joshua asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“What if our food makes him sick?”

“He’s never said anything about it being a problem.”

Joshua hesitated. “You know, you sound different.”

“Different how?”

“I’m not sure.” He paused. “Your English is better.”

I shrugged. “I practice all the time.”

“I guess that’s it.”

We left it at that. Neither of us had any way then to know what was actually happening to my brain.

… water cup. Beads of moisture cling to its outer surface, poised to slide down the smooth sides, surfaces swirling with clouds, blue, gray, white, swirling, swirling. A hollow cup, a woman riding a centaur with six legs, four to stand on, two that paw the air… Instead of a head, a spout where water pours out, cool and delicious, running in a glistening stream, clear, sparkling…

I opened my eyes and looked at the ceiling. The image of the cup stayed vivid in my mind instead of fading, as my dreams usually did. I wasn’t thirsty, but I kept seeing cool water pour out of that spout.

Early morning sunshine lightened the room. I had slept on the floor because the bed was too cramped. Joshua had given me a T-shirt to wear last night so I could wash my blood-soaked clothes in his sink. He was already gone, but he had put a blanket over me and left a note with his schedule for the day. I knew he had left to give us privacy; usually he studied all night and slept late. On the bed—

On the bed Althor lay staring at me. He didn’t say a word, but as soon as I saw him I knew what he wanted. I got up and went to the cabinets. A quick search turned up a battered cup made from clear orange plastic. I filled it with water and brought it over. He drank it in seconds. Then he lay down again and let out a long breath.

I sat next to him, cross-legged on the bed. “How do you feel?”

“Better.” He glanced around the room. “Where are your friends?”

“Studying. Joshua will be back this evening.”

Althor nodded and closed his eyes. We had taken off his clothes to let him sleep more comfortably, and the blanket covered him from the waist down, like a blue stretch of sky. Sunshine filtered through the curtains, drawing gleams from his skin. An old scar showed on his arm and another slashed across his chest. At the time, I had no idea how easy they were to remove. He never bothered because he didn’t care.

He looked beautiful to me, scars and all. Sexy too, still sleepy and warm in bed. Leaning over him, with my hands on either side of his shoulders, I kissed him.

His lids lifted, both inner and outer. Then he pushed me away.

I flushed. Had I broken a taboo I didn’t know about? Or maybe he just didn’t feel like being kissed. He had barely made it back from the edge of death and here I was coming on to him.

But then he said, “The soldier from Troy. We need it, yes?”

“You brought one?”

“Several.” He hinged his hand around my T-shirt and tugged at it until I raised my arms. After he pulled it off, I lowered my arms and stared at my hands in my lap, wearing nothing but my bracelet, self-conscious at being undressed in front of him in broad daylight.

He spoke softly. “You’re a Raylican goddess.” When I looked up, he smiled. “There is an ancient race, almost extinct. You look like their fire goddess.” He cupped his hand under my breast and spoke in his other language, the one he had used just before we reached Mario’s house, that sounded so familiar. “What language is that?” I asked.

“Iotic. It’s ancient. Few people speak it now.”

“How do you know it?”

“My grandmother descended from the Raylicans.” He drew me down on the bed, wrapping his arms around me. When I pressed against his side, he lifted the blanket and slid me on top of him. He felt warm and solid. I lifted my head to kiss him— And saw his face.

He was staring at the ceiling with his inner lids down, making his eyes into shields. It didn’t look like the face of a living man. I was making love to a machine.

I rolled off him and sat up fast, holding the blanket around my body. His head turned to me like a mechanized part swiveling on ball bearings. “We have not completed the call.” His voice was flat, a dry plain with tumbleweed blowing, across it. Reaching out, he curved his arm around my waist.

“No!” I pushed him away. “Don’t touch me.”

His arm returned to his side. “Why not?”

“Where is Althor?”

“I am Althor.”

“I mean the real Althor. The man.”

“I am not a man.”

I pulled the blanket tighter around my body. “You aren’t. But he is.”

“I am him.”

“Why do you sound different? You’re like a machine.”

“I am a machine.”

“Can’t you let Althor out again?”

“I am Althor. How do I make it clear? This is a mode, an incomplete representation of my emotive-mechanical interface.

What you call the ‘real’ Althor is another mode, one currently inoperative.” Flatly he said, “This is what I am. If you don’t want this part of me, don’t ask for anything else.”

Just like that. Take all of me or nothing. Perhaps it says something about my life then, that it was easier for me to deal with his killing Nug than with his being a machine. As much as his capacity for violence shook me, I understood it. This was too alien.

But I asked him to accept me as I was: a nobody. As far as I knew, he had no reason to see me otherwise. It seemed hypocritical to expect less from myself than I did from him.

I hesitated. “If we do this—would I be making love to your other mode too?”

“A mode is not a different personality.”

“So if I’m here with you, I’m with the Althor I know better?”

“Yes.”

I placed my hand against his chest. He felt human. I leaned over him and looked at his face, the shimmering pools of his eyes.. You can at least try, I told myself. If you can’t handle it, stop.

I lay down and kissed his chest. He moved his hands along my back in measured, mechanized strokes. Then he said, “Resume.”

Resume? I didn’t have time to ask what it meant. Instead of brushing his lips over my face, he pushed open my mouth and kissed me straight on, too hard, as if he hadn’t calibrated the force. Then he rolled over on top of me, bringing us to the edge of the bed. He pulled the condom out of his clothes on the floor and sat up, straddling my hips with his knees while he examined the foil packet.

I couldn’t stop staring at him. It was mesmerizing, like seeing someone move by remote control. He' was, in a sense; his biochips were directing the hydraulics that controlled his motion. He was a machine, one sensuously beautiful, but still a machine.