After the Red Rain (12 page)

Rose was the sweet smell of anything that wasn’t garbage and steel. He was whatever lay beyond the sun and the clouds.

She pressed more firmly, closing her eyes, dissolving into the moment. It was so different from Jaron’s kiss. She chased the comparison
away, not wanting anything of Jaron to intrude on this moment. She let herself melt against him, into him.

When had it happened? When had she realized how intense her feelings for him were? Not by the river that first day, though it had surely started then. On the rooftop? Or maybe at L-Twelve, when he’d pushed her to think about the Red Rain, to question what she knew and what she thought she knew.

It didn’t matter, she realized. Time was a fleeting thing, and it just didn’t matter.

And Rose awoke, pulling back just enough to break the kiss, to break the moment.

Deedra’s eyes snapped open. Rose stared at her with wonderment and intensity.

“Why did you do that?” he asked, his fascination terrified and childlike at the same time.

Deedra blushed and pulled away, scooting to the farthest reach of the mattress. She self-consciously ran her fingers along her scar. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to… I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t,” he told her. “I just wasn’t expecting it.” He touched his fingers to his lips, gently, as though he expected them to be different. Fragile.

“I’ve never… Everywhere I’ve been, everywhere I’ve seen, no one has ever…” He was, for the first time, at a loss for words, his surprise and confusion and delight warring to express themselves on his face all at once. “I’ve never been, well, touched. Like that. Never felt such a…” He drifted off.

“Me, too,” she said. Her body ached. It had a mind of its own; it surged toward him, and he backed away from her, curling into a tight ball in the corner.

Face flaming hot with rejection, she pulled away from him. “Fine,” she said, more coldly than she’d meant. “I thought you wanted—”

“It’s complicated,” he said.

“No, it isn’t. It’s easy. You think I’m hideous. Join the club.”

“No. No.” He thumped the wall with his fist in frustration. “I can’t explain it. It’s not about you. It’s about me. I’m worried for you. It may not be safe to be with me. Near me.”

“Because of Jaron and the Bang Boys?”

“Not them,” he said. “There’s more.”

“What are you talking about? Whatever it is, we can figure it out. Figure out a way around it.”

He shook his head. “No. I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Are you…” She didn’t want to think it, but it was the only thing that made any sort of sense. “You
are
a spy, aren’t you? From Dalcord Territory.”

“No.”

“They sent you through Sendar to throw off suspicion. They removed your brand so that you could give yourself a Ludo brand and see what happens in our factories.”
Stupid!
She was consorting with an enemy of the Territory. Worse than that, she
liked
it. He was dangerous and a criminal, and she barely even cared.

“No. Not at all. I’m not from Dalcord or Sendar. I don’t belong to any Territory.”

“That’s impossible. Everyone—”

“Do you have a glass of water?” He rolled up his sleeves, revealing bare, slender, almost muscleless arms.

“Water,” she said, disbelieving. “You want a glass of water.”

“Please.”

“Now? Right now? While we’re talking about…” She sighed. “Fine.”

She crawled out from under the netting to fetch him a glass of water. The meter warned her that she was near the end of her allotment
for the month. She couldn’t help noticing that the entire unit was suffused with the scent of the perfume now. The cockroaches in the corner had scurried off somewhere else.

She scooted under the netting and handed him the water. He hesitated.

“It’s okay to drink,” she assured him. “The filter is pretty new.”

He ignored her, staring at the water, as if this glass of water represented the biggest decision of his life. Then, resigned, he brought it closer.

Deedra coughed a spasm of laughter when he didn’t raise it to his lips but, rather, dipped his fingers into it.

“What are you—?”

“Wait for it,” he told her. His voice was as quiet and gentle as ever, but there was a new firmness to it. A resolve. It was decisive.

She watched. In the murky gray, she saw something and realized it was a trick of the light. For a moment it had seemed that—

Her eyes bugged out as she saw it again. She leaned in close. Close enough to know that it wasn’t a trick of the light.

The water level in the glass had dropped. And as she watched, it dropped farther.

“What in the world…?” Even as she said the words, the water dipped below half its volume.

“How… how are you doing that?” she asked. She stared as the water continued to drop. “It’s some kind of trick, right?” Her eyes were at war with her brain; they insisted that what they were seeing was real, but her brain wasn’t buying it. The back-and-forth paralyzed her.

The water. Was going. Away.

Where? Where was it going? How could he be doing this? A tube? But no—his sleeves were rolled up. Nothing there but skin.

The paralysis broke. Her eyes and her brain were still fighting, but now something more primitive had crashed through and galvanized
her to action. She backpedaled away from Rose, her body moving without conscious direction until she collided with a wall.

Nowhere to go.

“What. Is going. On. Here?” she asked, pressed against the wall.

The glass was empty now. Rose’s eyes shone as he handed it back to her. With trembling fingers, she accepted it. Stared into it. A few beads of water clung to the sides, but it was otherwise dry.

“I realize that what I’m about to tell you may be difficult for you to believe,” he said. “Or even to understand, but…”

She held up the glass, incredulous. Her heart trip-hammered. Her brain said,
This is absolutely impossible
, and she wanted to believe that so badly, but she couldn’t. She just couldn’t. Because here it was,
right in front of her
.

“Here’s the thing.” He spoke with a quiet confidence made all the more frightening for its lack of bombast. “I’m pretty sure I’m not human.”

W
ithout thinking about it, without actively making the decision, she grabbed his hand and pulled his arm to her, running her fingers from palm to elbow.

Dry.

Cool, dry, slightly rough. Nothing hidden. No moisture from decanting the glass drop-by-drop down his arm.

He had somehow—

(She couldn’t think it. Couldn’t let herself think it.)

—somehow—

(It was insane. It was too crazy even to think, much less say.)

—drunk the water with his fingers.

There.

“What
are
you?” she asked, and immediately regretted it when his face became crestfallen and abashed. Still, her sympathy did not keep her from backing away from him again. There wasn’t much room and nowhere to go, but she at least could remove herself from his reach. All her internal alarms were screaming at her, but they had to struggle to be heard over the voice in her mind repeating,
This is
Rose.
This is
Rose. Over and over.

Rose was a friend.

Rose was a criminal.

Rose was a
friend
.

Rose was a… freak.

So are you, Deedra.

“What am I?” he asked quietly, then nodded as if to say,
That’s exactly what I should have expected from you
. She half-anticipated his snorting and asking, “What are
you
?” in a snotty, almost-Jaron voice.

Instead, he folded his arms over his chest and leaned back, putting a few more inches between them. Deedra pressed herself against the wall. The corner was just inches away. Could she round the bend and get to the door before he leapt on her? Unlock the door and get out into the hall and…

And what?

Scream for help? Her neighbors would ignore it. No one would be foolish enough to open a door after curfew. Anyone out after curfew was, by definition, undesirable, if not outright dangerous. No help would come for her.

“I don’t know
what
I am.”

There was no recrimination or reproach in his voice. Just regret.

“I’m a freak,” he went on, morose. “Like a blue rat. Like tooth-weed.”

“No.” She found herself probing at her scar without intending to. “You’re a person.”

“Am I?” he asked. “I knew early on that I was different. And that being different was dangerous. So I don’t let people know.” He hesitated just a bit. “Until I came here. And I learned I would need to have a brand to stay, so I…” He gestured to his neck. “But then I learned that
real
brands have circuits embedded in them. For scanning. So mine doesn’t work. But I had to try because I had to come back. I had to stay.”

“Why?”

“You.”

Deedra softened, some of the tension bleeding from her. She didn’t think someone planning to hurt her would sound so sad. Rose shrank against his wall, tucking in on himself as though he wanted to vanish into the corner, melt away.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said. “I just wanted…” A shrug. “Never mind. I’m sorry. You should stay away from me. I’m not safe.”

He said nothing more, simply leaned against the wall, ashamedly not looking up. She studied him, the angles of him. He took no glee in her fear. No sign of joy at her discomfort. There was only his own discomfort and maybe—beneath it—fear.

This isn’t Jaron Ludo. It’s Rose. Get past it, Deedra.

She understood now why he hadn’t registered for housing or rations. Why he kept to himself, by and large. He was afraid. For all his strength and all his smarts, he was afraid. Of his difference. Of being targeted for something other than just his appearance and his mannerisms.

He can drink water with his fingers. That’s weird, sure, but…

“Did it hurt when you branded yourself, or…”

“It’s just… something I can do.”

“Like sucking up water through your skin?”

“Like… like a bunch of things.”

She thought of the alley he’d run down. The brick wall at the end. “What kinds of things?”

“No.” He shook his head violently. “Too dangerous. I won’t risk hurting you.”

She counted off on her fingers. “You can… absorb water. Somehow. You can make your own brand. Again, somehow. You can jump over a thirty-foot wall—”

“I didn’t jump the wall.”

“Then what
did
you do?”

He shook his head again.

“Come on! Tell me! I want to know what else you can do. No one else is like you. You’re amazing.”

“I’m just doing what I’m able to do. There’s nothing amazing about it.
Amazing
is when someone… when someone does something contrary to themselves. When they take a risk. Like… like you. That day,” he said, “by the river? When we met?”

Her cheeks flamed. Now he was condescending. “If you could get out of the alley, you never needed my help that day. I risked myself for nothing.”

“No, no!” he cried. “Don’t be… don’t be embarrassed. Did I do that to you? I’m so sorry. Deedra. Deedra, please look at me.” He leaned in and cupped her chin, tilting her head. She locked with his green eyes and did not look away.

“What you did that day
was
amazing.” He spoke with an earnestness she’d never heard before; its magnetism held her in place. “You don’t understand—I thought I could get across just fine. But the river was more toxic than I realized. By the time I knew how dangerous it was, I was already halfway across and weakening quickly. You saved me.

“But even if I had been fine, you couldn’t have known about my… abilities. You thought I would drown. And even though it was dangerous for you, and even though there was no obvious reward in it, you took a chance. To save me. To save someone you’d never met before. That’s why I stayed. Why I went to L-Twelve. For you.” He smiled and stroked her cheek. “I’ve walked this world for so long. I’ve seen the very worst of it. I’ve seen families kill one another. I’ve seen friends turn on each other. But I’ve never seen someone take a chance like you did. Selflessly. Just because.”

They stared at each other. He moved closer, then pulled away.

Do it
, she thought.
Kiss me. I made the move before; now it’s your turn.

She didn’t know if her scar was covered or not, and for the first time in her life, it didn’t matter.

She tilted her head up, parting her lips, and he sucked in a breath and then leaned away.

“We can’t. I don’t… I don’t know everything I can do. By myself, it’s one thing. But around someone else, I have to be careful. On alert. All the time. I might be dangerous.”

Anything could be dangerous. The whole world was dangerous. But danger came from somewhere or from something. It was a part of the nature of a thing. Jaron was spoiled and corrupt, and that made him dangerous. Rats carried disease, and that made them dangerous. The water in the river was unfiltered and toxic. Tooth-weed could lie in wait, silent and still, then strike. So what could make Rose dangerous? What was in him that could threaten her?

“Everything can be dangerous. The question is how? So, how are you doing these things?” she asked. “Because maybe that will tell us how to avoid the danger.”

“I don’t know.”

She goggled at him, not sure whether she was more astonished by his answer or by the infuriating, almost apathetic calm with which he delivered it.

“You
have
to know,” she told him. “No one else can do what you do. There has to be some kind of an explanation—”

“Do you know how you walk?” he asked. Before she could respond, he went on: “Do you know how you breathe? How you listen? How you
think
? No. You just do these things. They happen when you need them to. And you don’t question them.” He shrugged. “It takes some concentration on my part, but it’s still the same. I don’t question what I do, either.”

“Have you met others like you?” The thought was out of her mouth
before she fully processed it. The very
idea
of more people like him, all with strange powers and abilities… It made her woozy again.

“No. Just me, as far as I know.”

“How—”

“I really don’t know.” He didn’t seem impatient or fed up with her questions. But he also, clearly, had nothing new to contribute.

She sat up, legs folded under her, and tried another tack. “Where do you come from? Before you were here, you had to live somewhere.”

Again, he beheld her with that mix of eagerness, calm, and curiosity. “I don’t know what it was called. My earliest memory is of rain.”

“The Red Rain?” It spilled out before she could stop herself. That was ridiculous. He was too young to remember the Red Rain.

He considered it, though. “I don’t know. I don’t know how long ago it was. I was lying on the ground, and the rain was coming down. Hard, at first, then gentle. And I opened my eyes as it tapered off to nothing. There were stones around me. Tombstones.”

Deedra shivered. A graveyard. In Ludo Territory, the dead were processed. The bodies were desiccated with a special dehydrating chemical, and then the dust was studied in labs as a source of DNA that scientists could learn from in order to figure out better ways to clone body parts and food.
From dust and death, food and life
, went the saying. Modern. Rational. Civilized.

But she’d heard of graveyards. In other Territories, human bodies were taken—whole and reeking—and buried deep underground. It was a waste of space, but it didn’t stop there. Because after storing the corpses underground, they would then place stone markers over them, so that no one could doubt what lay beneath the surface. The idea of walking over dead bodies sent shivers from her neck down her back and arms. She was glad she didn’t live in such a barbaric Territory.

“I woke up,” Rose recounted, “and I began walking. Out of
the graveyard. Into the world.” He paused. “And I suppose I’m still walking.”

“Where was that?” She didn’t know of any graveyards in any of the adjacent Territories. She tried to calculate how far he must have walked.…

“I don’t know.” Rose moved next to her and took her hand, squeezing gently. His cool touch comforted her, and she squeezed back. “I woke up and I walked. There was nothing else to do. It’s not easy,” he confessed. “Along the way, I learned to do many things to survive.

“There were flowers—roses—when I woke up,” he said. “In the graveyard. A cluster of them, in mottled reds, oranges, and whites. They were beautiful. I didn’t know what they were, then, of course. What they were called. I left them behind, but I have thought of them often. As I walked the world, I regretted not taking them with me. Eventually I learned what they were and took that name for myself.”

“Because you’re beautiful, too?” she blurted out, and immediately regretted it.

But if he was startled or put off by her blatancy, her forwardness, he didn’t show it. Instead, he cast his eyes at the floor and blushed fiercely. “No. Because I didn’t understand them, and I don’t understand me, either. I saw them that one time and then never again. They seem unique.”

Like me
, he did not need to add.

He went to the window and looked out over the miserable, never-changing skyline.

“I’ve seen a lot.” His voice fell into quiet sadness, as though sodden with memories. “So much. One time… one time, I spent a week walking through a city and never saw a single living thing. No people. No animals. No plants. Nothing. Concrete and steel and pavement and glass and metal. I walked seven full days, the empty buildings looming
over me, the empty streets and sidewalks fanned out around me in every direction. And I saw no one.”

Some impulse drove Deedra to approach him. She stood behind him, a hand raised, vibrating, desperate to touch, to soothe. Petrified.

“There was a space of ten miles or more that just burned,” he went on. “I watched char and dust dance on the winds. Endless vistas of burning trash heaps, the sky blackened for days in every direction.

“I’ve seen people dying of starvation,” he whispered. “I watched them collapse in the streets, heard the final hiss of breath. I’ve seen gang wars, rockets launched from window to window across the empty boulevards. So much empty space for such a crowded world, Deedra. People stay inside unless they have to be outside. They built this world for a hundred billion people, and now there are just half that. Have you ever thought of what might be under all that concrete and glass and steel?”

She hadn’t. The concrete, glass, and steel had been there long before she’d been born, and there was no way of removing it. So what mattered whatever lay beneath?

While distracted with those thoughts, her hand, disconnected from her consciousness, came down on his shoulder. He didn’t flinch. If anything, he seemed to relax into it, to lean toward her.

His reflection in the window was haunted.

“I’ve seen everything you can imagine and more, Deedra. But until recently, I’d never seen anything beautiful in the world, other than those roses. They were out of place. Like I am.”

She waited a moment. Rested her other hand on his right shoulder. When he didn’t move or speak, she came closer, pressing herself against his back. Gently. Not seeking him. Not looking for a return touch. Just letting him know:
I am here. You are not alone.

“You’re not out of place anymore,” she said. “You have a place now. You can trust me.”

We
are not alone.

“I hope that’s true.” He nodded slowly, then sighed heavily. “Okay, you’re right. I need to trust you. Are you ready?”

“What are you going to do?”

He inhaled deeply and turned to face her. “Stand back. I’m going to show you my biggest secret.”