Fragments (51 page)

Kira glanced at Samm and Calix, deep in a similar conversation. She hoped Samm could
keep his head and not spill any secrets about who he was; Calix was certainly doing
her best to distract him, smiling and laughing and touching him now and then on the
arm or shoulder, just lightly. Kira felt a sudden surge of paranoia, convinced that
Calix was trying to seduce Samm and learn the truth, but even as she thought it, she
realized it was stupid. Calix was probably just giddy at the sudden introduction of
a hot teenage guy into a very, very small dating pool.

Somehow, that thought only made Kira angrier.

“Being a hunter is not the most important job,” said Phan, “but it’s definitely one
of them, because it’s one of the only ways we get protein. Protein that’s not eggs,
I mean. There are deer in the Rockies, and elk and mountain goats, and this is the
best place for them to find food, so we keep the gates open and tore a bunch of the
fences down and welcome them in—which makes it sound easy, but sometimes they don’t
come in, and sometimes we get wolves coming after the chickens or the kids or whatever,
so the hunters are the ones who set traps and follow tracks and keep the food chain
moving in the right direction.”

There was something incredibly cheery about the way he talked—his bragging didn’t
seem arrogant or pushy, he was just proud of what he did and genuinely happy to be
doing it, and his excitement over each new topic of conversation seemed infectious
rather than overbearing. Kira soon gave up trying to squeeze a word into the torrent
of eager babbling, and listened as Phan talked about everything from wolf pelts to
wasteland survival to the finer points of converting an office building to living
space. They passed several more of the big buildings, and even a fountain in a grassy
courtyard, and Kira marveled at the strange mix of affluence and survivalism that
permeated their society—they had running water and electricity and showers and even
a grounds crew, patiently mowing the grass and trimming the bushes, but on the other
hand they had none of the salvage opportunities that Kira had grown up with. All the
clothing stores within easy reach had been ravaged by acid storms or incinerated in
chemical fires, so the people wore a mixture of frontier homespun, animal hides, and
patchwork oddities hand-stitched from old curtains and sheets. Kira realized that
they would probably find her own background equally bizarre, a parade of high-fashion
divas using candles and wood-burning stoves in their giant, decaying mansions. Was
there anywhere on Earth where life was normal? Did “normal” even mean anything anymore?

The school was in another office building, filling the two lowest floors with hoots
and hollers and the happy shrieks of children. Kira’s heart beat faster as the sound
grew louder, still shocked by the existence, let alone the sheer number, of children
in the Preserve.
This is what I’ve been working for,
she thought.
This sound—this crazy, wonderful chaos. A new generation discovering the world and
making it their own.
Tears filled her eyes, and she felt torn between the desire to stop and stand and
soak it in, absorbing the happiness as slowly as she could to make it last that much
longer, or simply to race forward and throw open the doors and drown herself in the
joy of so many children. Her reverie was cut short when Samm spoke.

“You go in,” he said. “I’m going to go get the horses.”

Kira looked at him in surprise. “Alone? Let me go with you, it’s too dangerous in
the ruins for one person.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “I can tell you want to see the children. Calix said she’ll
go with me—this close to the Preserve, she knows the ruins well.”

Calix was smiling, and Kira was so shocked she couldn’t read the expression on the
other girl’s face. Did she look pleased? Too pleased? Victorious? Kira stammered,
trying to form a response: On the one hand, Calix almost certainly knew the territory
better, and for that reason would be a better companion for the trip. On the other
hand, a trip into the ruins for Kira and Samm would be another chance to speak in
private, and to look for Heron—or for Heron to contact them. If she was trying to
stay hidden, she wouldn’t approach with Calix standing right there. And . . . Kira
still didn’t trust Calix, for reasons she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Kira wasn’t
going to keep denying to herself that Calix’s evident crush on Samm didn’t rub her
the wrong way. But it was more than that.

“We’ll be fine,” said Calix. “I’ve been through there dozens of times. I think I know
exactly which store you left them in. And I haven’t seen a horse since before the
Break. I’m dying to meet them.”

“Weather’s clear,” said Phan. “Go now and you’ll be back in time for lunch—I bet those
horses’ll be excited to eat some real grass for a change after walking in the wasteland.
How long were you out there anyway?”

“Um . . . three or four weeks,” said Kira. She was still trying to form a plausible
protest as Samm and Calix walked away.

“Come on inside,” said Phan. “This is great. You’re going to love it. They’re doing
a play today, all the third and fourth graders. Something about fairy tales or something;
they do it every year.” He pulled Kira into the school, and she followed blankly,
watching Samm and Calix disappear around the corner.

The city of Arvada looked different in the daytime—it seemed more desolate, somehow,
with the sun beating down from a cloudless sky. Samm took deep breaths, vigilant for
any sign of Heron on the link, but all he smelled was dirt and sulfur and bleach.
The toxic scent of the wasteland.

Calix steered him around a wide, hazy intersection, pointing to faint wisps of smoke
with an expert eye. “Toxic fumes,” she said. “The rain last night reacts with some
of the dry chemicals that collect in the shallow pans like that, and it makes a poison
gas. When the wind gets bad, it blows right into the Preserve, but on a still day
like this you can just go around them.” She led him onward, sometimes speaking softly
about the city—its hazards and its opportunities—and sometimes just walking in silence.
Her knowledge of the wasteland and how it worked was impressive, and Samm thought
about how helpful she would have been on their journey out here. They would have traveled
much more easily, and perhaps even managed to save Afa’s life.
I wonder if she’d want to come back with us,
he thought.
She talked about trying to leave, and she’d be an asset on the road, knowing what
she does about surviving in the wasteland. Of course, she might not want to come at
all if she knows what’s it like there, and it would be a change for her, going from
the bliss of the Preserve to the horror of war back east. I’ll ask Kira what she thinks
before I suggest it.

“That’s it up there, right?” she asked, pointing down a wide, ramshackle street. Samm
recognized the shopping center at the end of the road and nodded.

“That’s right.” They walked easily, without fear of enemies or predators because there
were none anywhere in the area.
The same wasteland that imprisons them,
thought Samm,
also protects them from any other threats. It keeps them safe, and it keeps their
lives easy, but if a real threat ever appears, they won’t be ready for it.
He watched the way Calix walked, sure and confident but wary only of very specific
dangers—she could spot the poison gas, for example, and yet walk right past a prime
ambush point without even noticing.
They wouldn’t last a day against a real enemy. They should pray that Dr. Morgan never
finds them.

The horses whickered hungrily when Samm approached; their food was gone, and their
water was almost depleted. He spoke to them simply, trying to emulate Kira’s soothing
tone, but his words were still direct and matter-of-fact, like he was talking to another
Partial soldier. “Sorry we were gone overnight,” he said. “We found a group of people
in the ParaGen complex. They have real grass and an apple orchard, and clean water
to drink. We’ve come to take you back.” He pointed at Calix. “This is Calix. She’s
a friend.” The horses stared back with deep, dark eyes, stamping their feet impatiently.

“They’re huge,” said Calix. “Bigger than any elk I’ve ever seen.”

“They’re hungry,” said Samm, “and they want to get outside. They don’t like being
stuck inside with their own droppings, this one especially.” He patted Oddjob on the
nose and brushed her back with his fingers to calm her. “This one’s Oddjob, and that’s
Bobo. Kira named them.” He showed her how to soothe them, and then how to load them
up with the equipment—first a blanket, then the saddle, buckled tight enough to stay
on without cinching too close and hurting them. They were skinnier now than when they’d
started the journey in New York, and he hoped that a short stop in the Preserve could
give them some strength back, and a bit more weight. They’d need it for the return
journey.

Calix seemed to be thinking the same thing, for she asked him a question as she worked
on Bobo’s saddle. “How long are you staying?”

“I don’t know,” said Samm, though the question had been troubling him ever since they’d
found the settlement. He had to be careful what he revealed to her. “We can’t stay
long—we came looking for ParaGen’s headquarters in the hopes to find a cure for RM,
and now that we’ve discovered one exists, we need to take it back as soon as we can.
Our people are at war, and we need . . .” He paused, not sure how to say what he needed
without giving too much away. “To be honest, we’re looking for more than just the
cure for RM,” he said. “We need information on the Partials themselves. We’re trying
to . . .” How much should he say? How much was Calix prepared to hear? The people
in the Preserve didn’t seem to think much one way or the other about Partials, but
they likely still blamed them for the Break. How would she react to the idea of peace
between the species? She was staring at him, her eyes full of . . . trust? Friendship?
He couldn’t read human emotions, and wondered again how they ever managed to get along
without the link. He’d seen the look on her face before, on Kira’s face, but he wasn’t
sure what it meant.

He decided to be direct, at least in part. Maybe they could trust Calix more than
Kira thought. “We’re trying to help the Partials,” he said. “They have a problem of
their own, a sickness that’s killing them, and if we can cure it, it might mean a
chance at peace between our species. That’s why we came to the ParaGen complex, to
see if we could find something to help us—and to help them.”

“You’ll have to talk to Dr. Vale,” said Calix. “He knows all kinds of stuff about
RM and disease. Maybe he knows something about what’s happening to the Partials.”

“We have very similar doctors at home,” said Samm, thinking of Morgan.
Do Vale and Morgan know each other? Is Vale truly a part of the Trust?

“But Dr. Vale cured RM,” said Calix, “like, twelve years ago. Your doctors haven’t
been able to do that yet.”

“Does that seem odd to you?” asked Samm. “He had a cure for RM almost as soon as it
appeared? Within weeks?”

“I guess no one really asked,” said Calix. “I’m not sure what you’re suggesting . . .
that he had sinister motives? How could saving people’s lives be sinister?”

If he already had a cure prepared before the Break
, Samm thought,
and kept it for himself and his “Preserve.” But the rest of the Trust didn’t have
it, did they? Morgan or Nandita, or Trimble from B Company—where was their cure?
It didn’t make sense, and Samm found the discrepancy intensely troubling. There was
more going on here than he could grasp, and he didn’t like it.

“I’m sorry you had to live so long without a cure,” said Calix, leaving Bobo and stepping
toward Samm. “Naturally immune or not, that must have been horrible, to watch everyone
you know die, to watch all those babies, year after year. . . .”

“Yes, it must have been,” said Samm, almost immediately realizing what he’d said—his
phrasing made him sound like an outsider from the human society. But Calix didn’t
seem to notice; instead she took his hand in her own, rough and calloused but warm
and gentle. He tried to smooth over the mistake with a firmer statement. “Every infant
has died since the Break.”

“You have no children at all?” There was a look of deep sadness in her eyes as she
contemplated the life in East Meadow. “No wonder Kira seemed so overwhelmed.” She
paused a moment, looking at Samm’s hand. “Are you . . . ? Are you and Kira . . . ?”

“Leaving?” asked Samm.

“Together?” asked Calix. “Are you . . . married? Dating?”

Samm shook his head. “No.” But before he could say another word, Calix was kissing
him, her lips pressed against his, soft and supple, her body warm against him and
her arm wrapped behind his head, pulling them closer together. Samm froze in surprise,
his brain melting under the sensation of her lips, but he regained control and gently
pushed her away. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m not very good at this.”

“I could teach you.”

“I mean, I’m not very good at communicating,” said Samm. “I don’t always understand
. . . It’s not important. What I mean to say is I’m sorry if I . . . led you to believe
something I shouldn’t have.”

Calix’s face was a mix of surprise and confusion. “I’m sorry,” she said. “You seemed
. . . interested.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I think I’m in love. . . .” He paused. “I don’t think
she even knows.”

Calix laughed, a hollow sound that seemed more sad than amused. She wiped a tear from
her eye and laughed again. “Well. I look like a big stupid idiot now, don’t I?”

“I’m the idiot,” said Samm. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“That’s very kind of you to say,” said Calix. She took a deep breath and shook her
head, wiping another tear. “If you could do me a favor and not tell anyone I, uh,
threw myself at you like a moron, that would be very kind as well.”