The Bones of Old Carlisle (34 page)

The Rescuer could offer only a helpless grunt, perhaps because
Hengi was pressing his neck, or because the question made no sense.
“Where are the Being?” Hengi asked again.
“There is no Being, Hengi!” I cried. “Don’t let him touch you!”
Hengi looked at me and scowled, relaxing enough that the Rescuer
was able to swing his arm around, touching the box to Hengi’s lower
thigh.
Hengi knocked the box from the Rescuer’s hand, sending it sailing
against the far wall, and tightened his grip on the Rescuer’s neck.
But it was too late. The poison began eating Hengi’s coverall
away, and then the flesh underneath, converting him with frightening
speed to a fine dust that spilled across the floor.
Hengi’s eyes grew wide. Still embracing the Rescuer, he looked
down at his leg and screamed.
“Help the Hengi, Rescuer!” he cried. “Tell at Being. Tell at
Being!”
The Rescuer struggled to escape Hengi’s grasp, putting his hands
on the floor and trying to rise, but Hengi pushed up from the floor
with one arm while he kept the other wrapped around the Rescuer’s
neck.
For the first time that morning, I saw terror in the Rescuer’s
face, his eyes gone wide like all of ours do. He half crawled, half
staggered to the cabinet, pulling himself upright as Hengi clung.
“At the Being!” Hengi shouted hopefully. “Take the Hengi at the
Being!”
The poison had eaten completely through Hengi’s leg, and his knee
dropped to the floor with a thud and a swarm of dust, slowly
disappearing. The poison continued to climb Hengi’s thigh as well, a
steady veil of dust dropping from the stub of his leg.
Hengi was growing lighter, and the Rescuer was able to stand
straight now, working desperately to shake Hengi off his back.
Hengi responded by wrapping both arms around the Rescuer’s neck,
clinging so tightly that the Rescuer began to gasp, his face
reddening. He pushed backward into one of the cabinets, and Hengi’s
head and upper body slammed it hard enough to dislodge a door.
Hengi looked down just as the poison destroyed the last of his
pelvis. His other leg spun free, spewing dust in a long arc across the
floor.
“Being!” he screamed, horrified. “Being, the Hengi sorry!”
The Rescuer, his burden yet lighter, was whirling frantically
now, circling and then swinging Hengi against the wall, once, twice,
three times.
“Stop!” Hengi commanded, and he grabbed the top of the Rescuer’s
head and pushed it sideways, then twisted it completely around until
it was facing backwards. The Rescuer’s neck broke with a horrible pop
and both of them tumbled to the floor.
The poison had eaten into one of Hengi’s lungs, and he was
panting now, lying on his back, trying to understand as he looked at
the Rescuer, at his own dwindling body, and finally at me.
And then Hengi smiled. Perhaps the dissolution of his body
tickled. Or he was remembering something funny he’d seen. Or he was
glad the survey was over for him.
The last sound he made was a quiet, wheezing laughter.
I watched the rest of his body dissolve, torso, shoulders, neck
and head and then his arms, clenched on either side of the pile of
dust that had been him. As his hands disappeared, his fingers relaxed
and straightened, rolling against each other as if alive again, as if
Hengi had been allowed to return for just the few seconds more he
needed to be forgiven. Then they were gone as well.
A small metal bead lay in the midst of his remains and I stooped
and picked it up and knew immediately what it was and that I bore one
as well, near my liver.
I stepped over Drune to the dust piles that had been Jundy and
Nantia, my movement creating puffs of air that scattered what they had
been, revealing the same tiny piece of metal where each had lain.
I inspected each and knew they had been put inside our lifeless
bodies while they were still growing in the capsule; they had been put
in every surveyor, on every survey, so they could watch us or listen
to us or, should it ever be necessary, to find us. It had heard me
speak, and even now, I knew, my words to the Rescuer were traveling at
ether speed back to the rest of his kind.
I looked within my mind and perceived that things were shutting
down and being closed off. Drune, and Hengi, and the pop of the
Rescuer’s neck, facts and truth and memory that must not be remembered
if I were to continue functioning, all being hidden deep in my memory
in accordance with the ancient mechanisms that enable creatures that
think and feel and love to survive the unspeakable pains of this kind
of existence.
I knelt beside Drune, growing stiff, eyes staring up at me
without seeing me, and permitted myself one last moment with the
knowledge of what had been and what might have been, of the pain all
of us had caused each other because we had to. I howled, loud enough
to shake the things in the cabinets, to be heard everywhere, inside
the house, beyond the house, and on a planet unimaginable light years
away where dwelt a sad, lonely, beautiful race. If there were any
feelings left among them, and if they heard me, they would know.
I threw the three metal beads against the wall and they rattled
and hopped, and I knew they were still sending out their data and the
fact they had been thrown would need to be understood by someone
somewhere, far, far away.
I straightened out Drune’s legs and placed his arms at his sides,
and then I left the room, full of dust and death, to enter one more
narrative in the Rescuer’s crystals.
Just a sliver of sun was visible on the floor beneath the windows
in the front room. It was almost midday as the familiar crunch of
storytelling emanated quietly from the strange machine.
The dust spun wildly in the sunlight and blinked on and off and I
wondered why

“And that’s where it ends,” Arrowroot said. “Right in the middle
of the sentence. I guess that’s what it does when it catches up to
what you’re doing now, it just stops like that.”

As Arrowroot approached the end of the narrative, Tamani had
gradually collapsed on herself, and now she was doubled over, hugging
her thighs and weeping quietly.

Danielle slid from her seat and knelt before Tamani, apparently
uncertain what to do next. Arrowroot glanced at the two women briefly,
smiled and leaned forward.

“So, did anyone catch that?” he asked. “Tamani, I know this is
upsetting for you, but there was something you might have noticed.”
Everyone stared at him except Tamani, and he leaned back, took
off his glasses and wiped them with the corner of his shirt. “Plain as
day to me, but I’ve had all morning to think about it,” he said. “So
let me review. We’ve got Tamani, Pre-Nebby, Hengi, Jundy, Nantia and
Drune. They’re all in the kitchen. Six people. Well, five people and
Pre-Nebby. He’s like our second Nebby here, not quite a person, if by
person you mean human, with human genes or whatnot. So six, uh,
individuals. Then Jundy and Nantia, they’re killed and turned to dust.
Same with Hengi, the hard way, but seems like the bastard had it
coming. Drune’s dead but not dust. Then Pre-Nebby gets his neck broke,
head turned around and all, not a pretty sight. Then Tamani makes
another crystal, forgets everything, goes outside, meets up with a
soldier in the US Army, and the rest is history. So that leaves PreNebby and Drune on the floor in the kitchen. Two bodies.”
“Oh!” Hatfield exclaimed, and he leaned forward, as if he were
about to say something, but he pointed to Arrowroot instead, rolling
his hand as if to say “Go on.”
“You figured it out, haven’t you Floyd?” Arrowroot said. “You
see, Floyd and I were out there. We were in the kitchen. There was one
body in that kitchen. Just one. If you read the papers about it all,
that’s what they said too. One body.”
Tamani loosened her grip on her legs and raised her face to
Arrowroot, her black eye makeup running down her cheeks.
“Drune’s body wasn’t there,” Arrowroot said. “Drune was gone.”
Arrowroot looked at all the faces around him, and then he added,
“I think he’s still alive.”
“Oh!” Tamani said. Now it was her turn to exclaim, and she sat
straight up and stared at Arrowroot, a mix of hope and apprehension in
her eyes.
“You loved him, didn’t you, Tamani?” Arrowroot inquired. “As much
as someone who’s only been human for a few days can love someone? And
he loved you?”
Tamani raised her hand to her mouth and nodded silently, and
another black tear ran down her cheek.
“Now, Drune was sharp as hell, wasn’t he?” Arrowroot continued.
“There were some gizmos in that space bus, and he made the most of
‘em. That’s what the story from the crystals says. He figured things
out. Figured out how to stop the roach robots, then how to get food
from them. Without eatin’ people up, that is. Those things have got
eyes and ears too, do they not? So he learned how to communicate. How
to communicate. You followin’ all this, Nebby?”
“Yes,” Smiley said, and he was looking at Arrowroot without
blinking, his expression otherwise unreadable.
“So he figured out what Pre-Nebby was up to, just like Tamani
did,” Arrowroot said, “and he didn’t want to die any more than Tamani.
So he’s about to kick Pre-Nebby’s ass, but then there’s all that fuss
with Tamani and Hengi, and he’s just lyin’ there, acting dead. Then
Tamani’s cryin’ over him, but he can’t say anything, because he
doesn’t want anyone coming for him. He’s afraid of Pre-Nebby’s people,
and I don’t blame him. So he’s got to make everyone think he’s dead,
even Tamani. So he lies there until she’s gone, she leaves the kitchen
and the house and meets up with the US Army, grabs his gun, gets all
up in his business, but that’s another story, funny as hell, though,
heard it all on the scanner. So now Drune’s stuck. He’s afraid and
he’s in love. So he can’t come in from the cold, but he can’t go away
either. So I think he’s still out there somewhere. I think he’s
watching. What you think, Tamani?”
Tamani had stopped crying, regarding Arrowroot with the look of a
woman who is starting to realize she’s been betrayed. He’d been
expecting that.
“So there are two ways you can go,” Arrowroot said. “You can be
pissed that he made you think he was dead. That he didn’t warn you
about Pre-Nebby. All of that. And I wouldn’t blame you. Or you can
accept that what you two have been through exceeds, uh, exceeds the
bounds of a normal relationship, and you’re stuck with him. And I
think he feels the same. So you can at least talk to him, maybe get
past everything and see what else life holds for you, together or
otherwise. You with me?”
Tamani’s face had gone blank, but she nodded. Then she stood,
walked to the railing at the edge of the porch, and spoke. “Drune,”
she said quietly.
She looked back and smiled awkwardly, first at Arrowroot, then at
everyone else, realizing that calling someone’s name into thin air
might seem absurd. But she said his name again, this time louder.
“Drune.” And then again, this time a shout. “Drune!” followed by a
string of syllables Arrowroot recognized as Smiley’s language. She
walked back to the wicker chair and sat down, folded her arms and
stared at her lap.
“What’s going on?” Hatfield asked. “I’m lost.”
“If you look under my house,” Arrowroot replied. “In the
crawlspace under this porch. I bet you’ll see a coupla lights like you
saw yesterday at the old furniture store. Maybe one or maybe a couple.
Watching and listening.”
“Are you saying he’s operating the roaches?” Hatfield asked.
“Let’s call it an educated guess,” Arrowroor replied.
“And you think he’s going to show up? He’s going to show up
here?”
“Just a matter of time, if my scenario is accurate,” Arrowroot
replied. “And I think he’s operating some of the roaches, like maybe
half of them. Other half are on their own. Those are the only ones
eating people. Drune’s are just eating wildlife. Probably a dog or two
as well, based on what I’ve heard. What you think, Tamani?”
Tamani’s eyes had gone wide, and she was staring toward the floor
but clearly not looking at it, a finger in her mouth. When Arrowroot
spoke her name, she looked at him wildly, then returned her eyes to
the floor.
A black SUV pulled up at the end of Arrowroot’s walk and the
engine turned off, and Tamani looked up at it and then back down at
her feet, humming and rocking.
“Is that him?” Danielle whispered.
“I’m doubtful,” Arrowroot said. “I don’t picture him having
wheels at this point.”
A slight, dark-haired woman in a sundress got out and walked up
the steps.
“Welcome, Susan,” Arrowroot boomed. “Come join the party!”
Looking puzzled, Dr. Schaumberg walked up to Arrowroot, handed
him a sheet of paper and squeezed his shoulder. Then she turned to
Smiley and stared.
“Dr. Schaumberg, everyone,” Arrowroot said by way of
introduction. “A very good friend of mine. Nebby, I hope you remember
her.”
Smiley nodded and made a grimace that he perhaps meant as a
smile, and he waved the hat she’d given him, then put it back on his
head.
Arrowroot glanced at the paperwork, saw that it concerned the
soldier accused of killing his son, and he frowned and fell silent for
a moment.
“Hey, Danielle, take a look at this,” he said at last. “Army
believes they know who killed Robert.”
Schaumerg squeezed Arrowroot’s shoulder again and asked, “So, you
throwing a party?”
“Heh,” Arrowroot replied. “If it had been a party, you woulda
been invited. It’s more like a reunion, and you’re just in time. Long
story, I’ll tell you later, but we’re trying to get this young lady’s
boyfriend to show up, maybe solve a few other problems too.” Arrowroot
pointed toward Tamani, and she and Schaumberg stared at each other for
a moment, and then everyone looked toward the street, where a man was
standing next to Schaumberg’s SUV, staring at it.
He was tall, Caucasian, with black hair to his shoulders, his
face mostly hidden behind a wild beard and mustache. He was barefoot,
his feet black with dirt. His outfit looked to have been borrowed from
one of the castoff clothing bins around town, his pants gray
pinstriped wool that probably belonged to a suit at one time, his
shirt a cheap version of a Western cut. Both garments were filthy.
“That’s him, isn’t it?” Arrowroot asked. Tamani sat frozen,
staring at the man wide-eyed.
“Uhhhnn,” she moaned, and she shoved her finger into her mouth
and rocked back and forth. The man glanced up only once, taking in the
people on the porch, then scratched his beard and turned his attention
back to Schaumberg’s SUV. He stared through the windows, and then he
bent over to look into the grill.
“Real man of the earth, whoever he is,” Arrowroot observed.
“Tamani, why don’t you invite him on up, see if you might already have
made his acquaintance?”
With another cry, Tamani jumped from her chair, leapt over the
porch rail and hit the ground running. “Drune!” she screamed.
“Druuuuune!”
The man straightened, turned and stared as Tamani flew toward
him.
“Might be in for the mother of all throwdowns,” Arrowroot warned,
but when Tamani reached the man, they held their arms wide and
embraced, and then they wept together, Tamani crying hoarsely, the man
with a sad wail that sounded more animal than human.
Arrowroot took his glasses off again, raised the collar of his
shirt to his eyes and looked up at Schaumberg. “Please have a seat,”
he said. “Might wanna stay for the next event.”